The Seventh Moon
by IcyFire123
Summary: *CH. 9*When Hermione stumbles upon a terrible secret that was meant to be concealed forever, her whole world crumbles. And when Draco Malfoy presents her with a tempting offer, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life. Draco/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Author Email: princessmegan917@aol.com

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: A Hermione/Draco Story. Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

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Author's Note: This, of course, is Draco/Hermione. This will be a rather dark story, I think. This story will start out sort of in a lighter tone, but it will eventually get darker later on. Just wanted to warn you people because lots of people don't like to read dark fics. You have to take into account that many years have passed - they are currently in the middle of their seventh year, so many changes will have occurred and the characters might seem different. Also, the beginning doesn't really sound like what'd you expect from the summary, but I can't just jump right to the story, I have to slowly introduce the plot and work everything in. 

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Disclaimer: Nope, as you already would have guessed, this ain't mine. Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling (lucky her!).

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter One

The sudden roar from the engine of the bright red train didn't disturb the large crowd at Platform 9 3/4, but merely served to announce that it would be leaving shortly. A large number of witches and wizards had their hands raised up in the air, laughing and waving excitedly at the train, or rather, at their children who were seated in it. However, here and there, dotted occasionally among the crowds, were mothers and fathers who couldn't control their tears of happiness, and were dabbing softly at their eyes with handkerchiefs. The platform was filled with tension, full of mixed feelings of joy, excitement, and even sorrow, to some degree.

However, Hermione Granger, at this moment, had absolutely none of these emotions. She, put plainly, was rather distraught.

"Wait!" she cried as she sprinted through the crowds, pushing on the trolley with as much energy that she had left in her, dodging as many people as she could. "Don't leave!"

The crowds parted as she darted through, a few "oh!"s being emitted here and there where someone got pushed or tramped on. Others went into full panic mode as they believed a pocket picker had entered into their midst. This of course caused quite a scene, and only a rare few noticed that the train began to move, starting slowly, as if it was already tired from a long journey. 

"Tell the train to stop!" Hermione, still pushing her trolley, its wheels cackling unpleasantly from the friction against the concrete, chased after the scarlet train with stubborn determination. With one hand supporting the trolley, she used her other to pound as hard as she possibly could on the side of the train, making a temporary dent in the metal. "Stop!"

To her dismay, the train only sped up, almost as if it _wanted_ to leave her behind. She cursed at it bitterly - although not using any terribly vulgar language. After all, she _was_ Hermione Granger. And of course, Hermione Granger _didn't_ use profanity. What would people think of her if she did? 

When the train began to go quite a bit faster than she was able to run, she finally stopped and slumped to the concrete ground, breathing heavily and admitting defeat. It was then that she realized how badly her muscles ached and exactly how tired she was from the chase and scolded herself mentally for trying absurdly to outrun a train. There was no way she could have done it - she'd never even heard of anyone being able to run faster than rabbit, and a train was much faster than a rabbit, she concluded. 

A strand of dark hair fell from the sophisticated ponytail at the back of her head and she blew it away with an air of defeat, mentally cursing the train. A minute turned before she finally figured that instead of brooding over it, she might as well decide what to do now, since it was obvious the train wasn't going to let her on. A fruit smoothie - a strawberry fruit smoothie - sounded good at the moment and she decided she would hurry to the small, though rather expensive, café in the train station, order a smoothie, and finish reading that last chapter of the history textbook. 

As she didn't have an owl, she couldn't very well send a message to the school authorities. They, she decided stubbornly, would have to come find her and hunt her down because she certainly wasn't going to waste her energy trying to chase the train through the mountains, valleys and whatever else there was. Besides, someone would have to notice sooner or later that the new Head Girl wasn't present, right? She certainly hoped so. 

A moment later, after making her decision, she lifted her head to the mountains, perhaps for hope, and realized that the train had begun to slow down and eased to a stop a few hundred meters in the distance. Was it really doing what she thought it was doing? She held her breath and crossed her fingers, hoping for the best.

A tiny steel door, scarlet colored, swung open forcefully and a small wizard clothed in a, of course, scarlet colored, and rather ugly, conductor's uniform hopped out and motioned for her to come, with an urgent, as Hermione interpreted it - although it was actually closer to annoyed, wave of his hand. She obviously just couldn't bring herself to believe that anyone could find her annoying, despite what she'd heard from her friends. She was Hermione Granger after all - the smartest witch in her year, and probably in the century. Who could find her annoying? 

Hermione jumped up from the hard concrete, a joyful smile lighting up her face, masking her look of surprise and jogged up to the door of the train with her trolley with only one thought circulating through her mind.

_Yes!_

The train door automatically swung open the moment she approached and she hastily removed her trunk from the trolley and lugged it onto the train. The door behind slammed shut and she emitted a small gasp of surprise. The engine started up again with an energized "choo choo!" and she had to hold onto the railing to balance herself as the train jerked and began to go into motion again.

Now came her true dilemma - finding Harry and Ron. She glanced down the train to the right and saw with great displeasure her archenemy Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the passageway supporting himself with his hands on the wall, snogging with a girl she recognized as a Slytherin who was pinned between him and the wall. It didn't look so comfortable a position in Hermione's opinion although _they_ both seemed to be enjoying it. Emitting a small gagging noise, and rolling her eyes, she decided she'd take her chances going down the left side of the hallway. At least that way, she would be able to avoid going anywhere within the vicinity of that pompous little rich boy. 

Luckily for Hermione, she had gone the right way and soon found Harry and Ron sitting in a compartment near the end of the train. The door was old and a bit jammed so she had to force it open with a kick of her foot. Bad idea, she realized after the action was already carried through. Although the kick had done its job - the door was now open - the pain it inflicted on her toe was almost enough for her to go back on her commitment of never using swear words.

"Hey," she said as she dragged her trunk inside the compartment and plopped down on the soft cushiony seat across from her friends, making a painful face as she envisioned her poor toe turning black and blue and swelling to the size of a melon.

"Long time no see," said Harry, not even looking up to her as he shuffled a deck of cards.

Ron, though, regarded her with his eyebrows raised. It took a moment for him to get his words out. "Er...your hair's so..." he made a face.

"Dark," she finished for him and picked up a strand of her hair, studying it with a frown. "You don't have to tell me. I've already noticed. After a whole summer of swimming in a chlorine tank you'd think my hair would get a bit bleached and lighten, but strange, it got so dark."

She ran a hand through her dusky brown hair that was beginning to approach a soft ebony color. "At least it's not so frizzy anymore."

And she was right about that. The wild curls that she had back in first year were tamed into soft waves now as her seventh year began. And she was proud to declare that she had definitely not charmed it or used any muggle hair product to achieve the shiny wavy texture that it now had. Her mother had said that the change was due to the fact that she was "blossoming into a woman." Blossoming? _Blossoming?_ That wasn't even in her vocabulary. Ah, if only the rest of her body could "blossom" as her hair did. Too bad, that just didn't seem likely. Hermione would blush to announce that this year, just as it was in previous years, her trunk was still only stocked with size A bras.

Harry was dealing the cards, but paused to reply. "I thought you hated swimming."

"I do!" she said, wrinkling her nose and shuddering. "I've hated any large bodies of water since I was young. Remember during the Triwizard Tournament when they put me under water? I was nearly frightened to death when Viktor rescued me and I awoke to find myself in the middle of the lake! I've _always_ been scared of water. I don't know why. I always get this chill, like I _know_ I'm going to drown. My relatives all think it's strange because I've never had any scary experiences with water, yet I'm so frightened of it. So my mum decided that it would be beneficial for me to take a swimming class this summer to overcome my fear. It didn't work. I just stood in the 3-feet-deep water and held on to the side of the pool like my life depended on it. They couldn't make me swim or go _anywhere_ near the deep end." 

She looked toward the boys in anticipation. They weren't listening. 

"Looking forward to another year at Hogwarts?" asked Ron with a sarcastic forced enthusiasm. He would be surprised if she wasn't.

"I suppose," she said uncertainly, and then crinkled her face so that she resembled her cat Crookshanks. "I was really hoping that the start of this year would be great but then I'm late to the platform and the train takes off without me! Granted the conductor had a heart, he stopped it and let me on and I was almost in a good mood again. And then guess what's the first thing I just _had_ to see upon stepping on the train?"

"What? A house-elf scrubbing the floor?" They snickered and Hermione glared at them with frustration flickering in her eyes. Understanding that unless they wanted to endure two hours of her lecturing on the mistreatment of house-elves in present day society, they muffled their laughter and shut their mouths, and let Hermione continue. "What?"

"The albino ferret exchanging saliva with some Slytherin slut!"

"You mean he hasn't been transferred to Durmstrang yet?" Harry asked with surprise. "Didn't his father threaten to transfer him if the school didn't follow his orders?"

"Who knows. I wish he would have." Hermione flipped her hair haughtily. "It's disgusting, absolutely disgusting the way he acts. All those _germs_. Yuck! The _first_ thing I'm going to do when I'm the Minister of Magic is to enforce a "No Public Displays of Affection" law. And then second I'll - "

"We get the point, Hermione," Ron said as he rubbed his temples and glanced at Harry, who was on the verge of bursting into laughter. Hermione sighed realizing it was impossible to hold an intelligent conversation with these two boys.

Just at that moment, the compartment door burst open and a nervous looking Neville stepped in, with absolute terror written across his face. His legs were shaking and it looked like he could barely support himself, balancing himself with his hands on the table.

"What's wrong Neville?" she asked with concern.

"Malfoy," Neville choked, his voice to the brink of breaking.

Hermione frowned but then rolled her eyes and rose promptly from her seat, her face stern. "It's that git again. What's he done this time? Come with me Neville, I'll sort things out for you."

"Yes," said Ron as he sprang from his seat, "We'll kick his arse for you, Neville!" And then he sobered up suddenly and his face completely clouded over. "Actually, I can't."

"Why not!" said Hermione, staring viciously at him.

"You know what Malfoy can do...if I get expelled from the school Mum would probably die of shame..."

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the sleeve of Neville's robes and began to drag him unwillingly out the door when Ron grabbed her arm to stop her. She glanced up at him in surprise.

"Don't go."

Neville shook off her hand. "Yeah, don't."

Hermione scoffed and threw off Ron's grip on her arm. "What's wrong with you boys today?"

"Nobody messes with Malfoy. You know that Hermione." His expression was so serious it almost scared her. She took a deep breath - she wouldn't let _anyone_ intimidate her.

"I can't believe you've turned into such a coward Ronald Weasley! I'm certainly not afraid of that prat! What's a ferret going to do? Bite me?" She scowled sourly.

"Ron's right," said Neville quietly, ducking his head timidly. "Just forget about it."

"It's not alright!" she exploded. "Just because Lucius Malfoy supports the school by donating millions of galleons and the school wouldn't be able to function without his donations _doesn't_ mean that Malfoy can always do whatever he wants like a spoiled toddler!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration, fuming so angrily that her friends could swear on their lives that there was steam rising from her ears, remotely similar to a teakettle when the water is boiling.

The three boys held expressions of yes-of-course-he-can-what-planet-are-you-from on their faces.

Hermione paused hesitantly and resolved to change her method of attack. "Okay, so the fact that he is the Slytherin quidditch captain doesn't bother me - because that means they'll be _really_ terrible and Gryffindor will dominate, but I mean, can you _believe_ that they made him Head Boy? I wonder how many galleons that cost Lucius!"

Harry stared down at his shoes, his green eyes melancholy. "I don't like to see that prat Malfoy always on top of things either, but if we try to do anything about it, that'll only make things worse. Hermione, don't you understand? Ever since Edward Grondal died two years ago, Lucius has been the sole monetary support to the school. If Lucius withdraws his funding, Hogwarts _will fail to exist_," Harry argued quietly, enunciating the last phrase carefully. "Do you want to see Dumbledore sacked? Remember last year when Ardy Dimpleworth insulted Malfoy and he was forced to transfer to Beauxbatons? Do you really want to have to go to Beauxbatons? Or worse, _Durmstrang?_"

Hermione slowly exhaled, trying to calm herself down, but her face still displayed her insuppressible anger and she spoke with stubbornness lining her voice. "At least Viktor will be there."

"Just a little reminder - he graduated two years ago." Harry turned his gaze on her expectantly, waiting for a reply.

"_Actually_, he has a part time job teaching quidditch there when he's not playing for Bulgaria," she said as matter of factly, sticking her nose haughtily into the air.

"You _really_ want to go there?" Ron asked with obvious disbelief, staring dumbly at her.

"_No!_" she replied automatically, exasperated. Time for another change of attack method. "Harry, you guys didn't used to be like this. Remember we used to insult Malfoy and hex him all the time, and I don't see how it's any different now."

"Hermione, did you not hear a word I said? Lucius Malfoy is now the only person who is donating money to the school. Without him, Hogwarts wouldn't be here. The school board is too afraid of Lucius, and Dumbledore cannot overrule the board members. So that's why Draco can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I would rather not pick a fight with Malfoy because I love Hogwarts, because this is the best wizarding school in Europe, and I really don't want to leave until I graduate. If I'm expelled because of Malfoy, I'll have to spend the rest of my life with the _Dursleys!_ Hermione, you've met them! You know what complete bumbling idiots they are! So...I can only put up with it."

A small defeated sigh passed Hermione's lips as she finally let Harry's words sink in. "Alright, you win this time. But if Malfoy _ever_ does _anything_ again, I think I might just kill him."

Her last statement was said with true honesty. Many a times has she wanted to stick a knife into that idiot's neck - with or without a valid reason. She imagined the pure ecstasy that action would bring. Ah, it would certainly be better than taking drugs - not that she had ever done it, and not that she'd ever _want_ to - but she imagined it would be much better. That reminded her of the second thing she was going to do when she became Minister of Magic - to propose a ban on all health-threatening substances, including marijuana, opium, hallucinogens and whatever else there was. 

When she returned to reality, she realized room was silent except for her heavy breathing. Definitely not enjoying the sudden silence, she spoke up, hoping to lessen some of the tension that seemed to suffocate the room.

"I'll arm wrestle you, Harry."

"Ha! Prepare to lose," Harry said, his eyes twinkling, forgetting all about their previous argument.

Hermione rolled up the sleeve of her black robes. "Left arm."

"Hermione, you know that's my weak arm."

"Stop whining, Harry. It's my weak arm too." Hermione smiled mischievously and stuck out her left arm and rested it on the tabletop. "Maybe this way you won't lose so bad."

Ron and Neville crowded around them eager to watch. But Harry only stared.

"What?" she asked regarding his staring.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" She was beginning to feel self-conscious and she checked her robes to see if she had any nasty stains on them, although she was sure that she had just done the laundry the night before.

He took her hand tenderly in his and examined her wrist. "This."

Harry had turned her hand palms up and was pointing to a strange mark on her wrist with his index finger.

Ron's eyes opened wide. "Hermione! You're not attempting suicide are you?"

"Have you been trying to slit your wrist?" asked Harry with shocked concern. "What's wrong Hermione?"

And she just stared dumbfounded at them. It took her a moment before she could recover from the shock and finally speak.

"_You complete idiots!_ That's my birthmark!" She cried exasperatedly as she looked down at the shiny silver scar-like mark that adorned her slender wrist. It was a bit funny shaped, she had always thought. The only way she could describe it was that it was sort shaped like a capital "T" with some sort of a loop that resembled an upside down tear drop, perfectly etched out on her skin with a diamond cutter's precision. She had had it for as long as she could remember, but had never really given it any thought or attention.

"Oh." That was all Harry could muster in his embarrassment.

She snatched her hand away from his clutches and pointed at the shiny lightening bolt scar on his forehead. "Have I ever asked 'Oh, Harry, have you been trying to slit your forehead'? No!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, scratching his head like a small child, and smiling sheepishly.

Hermione kicked him playfully and grinned. "Don't worry about it."

~*~

It was already almost two weeks into school, and Hermione, stopping to think in the middle of the hall, realized how fast the days were passing. Soon, she would be out in the world, alone, unable to be under the comforting shelter of Hogwarts. Just the thought of it was terribly depressing. She would have to stop doing what she loved most in the world - learning, and have to slave away like a house-elf doing work for the Ministry that she probably wouldn't enjoy, unless of course, she herself was the Minister.

A strand of hair fell from the tight ponytail at the back of her head, as this was how she always wore it, and she tucked it behind her ear instinctively. She approached a corner and turned it, lost in her own thoughts.

__

Smack.

Someone or something had run into her.

Her vision began to fade slowly to black.

__

I have suffered from a blow to the solar plexus, thought Hermione, proud that she remembered the correct terminology. This was Hermione Granger for you - her mind still on her medi-wizard class in a situation like this when she couldn't even get enough oxygen to her brain. What was the meaning of that again? _Paralysis of the diaphragm._

When she recovered from her shock of having the wind knocked out of her, and regained her breathing, she realized that the person who had ran into her was none other than her fellow Gryffindor Lavender Brown. And she was crying, Hermione noted. She had never seen Lavender cry before.

"Lavender, what's wrong?"

Lavender just shook her head, refusing to speak, her eyes so red and swollen that Hermione thought she looked nothing short of a monster - an evil ugly monster that lived in children's story books. She reprimanded herself mentally - how could she think such a mean thing about her friend while she was in tears?

Hermione put her arm around Lavender and tried to comfort her friend by patting her back, but apparently it was no use. She glanced up from Lavender's small frail shaking body and her eyes caught the sight of none other than Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the hallway with an infamous smirk on his face. And she knew that he must have been connected. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Lavender, tell me what happened," she ordered with her stubbornness showing in her voice. When there was no reply, she took a quill from inside her robes and pressed the sharp end against the flesh of her arm, drawing blood. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to kill myself and then you'll have to live with the fact that you caused my death and I'll haunt you for the rest of my life."

Hermione wasn't actually going to do it, but hoped that she looked like she was. She didn't even think it was possible to inflict any actual harm with a quill. How can you possibly kill yourself, or come anywhere close to killing yourself with a quill? Nope, it wasn't possible. 

At last Lavender nodded, afraid of what Hermione might to do herself, and began to talk in a soft whisper between her sobs. "I...I...I went to find him in his room this morning...and I saw him with Pansy...and...and they were...and it was horrible!...But I thought he loved me! I really did, Hermione! I really did..." her sobs began again.

"Who's 'he'?" Hermione asked quietly, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Draco Malfoy," Lavender breathed, letting the name roll off her tongue.

"_Lavender_, how could you have been so _stupid?_" And then upon hearing Lavender's miserable sobs, she softened again toward her friend. "It's not your fault. I _won't_ let him get away with this."

Hermione looked up and glared murderously at Draco Malfoy who still had that nasty smirk on his face, and imagined a million ways how she could wipe it off. She tried to get Lavender to let go of her so she could go and hex Malfoy or something, but Lavender kept a tight grip.

"Don't Hermione. Don't do it for me. It's not worth it."

But Hermione threw off her friend's grasp and marched down the hall until she was face to face with her dreaded enemy Draco Malfoy. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, letting his eyes travel lazily from her head to her toe, giving her the who-do-you-think-you-are look. She glared at him with pure hatred in her eyes, breathing heavily, her fists clenched. And then her next action surprised not only him, but herself also.

She slapped him.

The crisp sound of her hand hitting his face echoed all the way down the hall. It was a truly beautiful moment, perhaps the most satisfying few seconds she had ever had in her life. 

She felt like a heroine - one of those who lived only in the legends. Maybe she _would_ be a heroine too, she thought. Maybe one day people would say "Ah, I'm as brave as Hermione Granger, the maiden who found enough courage to slap that arrogant Draco Malfoy." And then they would spit on the ground with contempt after saying his name. Maybe she would get a trophy for special services to the school. It could be titled "Hermione The Ferret Slayer" or maybe even "Hermione The Ferret Slapper" to be more politically correct. Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

And then, when she finally came to her senses and realized what she had done and the severity of her crime, the countless horror stories she'd heard before began flooding into her mind, and she could find the strength to do only one thing.

She fled.

~*~

Both Harry and Ron noticed how unnaturally silent Hermione was during dinner that same fateful day. Usually she was a chatterbox, and now, due to the lack of noise she was making, they knew something was wrong.

"Hermione?" said Ron, shaking her arm gently, waking her from her stupor.

"Hmm?" She looked up and seemed to stare into space, her eyes wandering around aimlessly.

"You've been acting rather strange today," said Harry. 

"Did you get a 109% on your Potions quiz instead of 110%?" asked Ron, chuckling at his lame joke, which _he_ thought was very funny.

"Harry, Ron," she said with such sadness and despair in her voice that they couldn't not take her seriously. "What would happen to me," she gulped, "if I slapped Draco Malfoy?"

They stared at her with horror. "You _what?_"

"So what if I did?" She scrunched her face and prepared herself for the worst.

"Transfer - transfer to Beauxbatons immediately," Harry said without hesitation.

"Or Durmstrang," Ron offered.

"This can't be that serious, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "You boys are way too chicken. You didn't used to be like this - we used to pick fights with him all the time."

"Hermione, circumstances change," Harry said, the tone of his voice absolutely serious. 

She realized they were right, circumstances did change. And in this case, for the worse. "I'd love to beat him to a pulp...but I have learned to restrain myself."

"What would happen if I stayed?" She asked this slowly, not so sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Harry and Ron looked nervously at each other. "Remember Annie Kinkle? The Ravenclaw beater? She accidentally elbowed him last year in the Slytherin and Ravenclaw quidditch match. Do you remember what happened to her? She had been locked in her own closet for five days before anyone found her. She was practically starved to death, and then she transferred."

"He can't make me transfer, right?" She asked with hope, although not much of it. "It'll be so absolutely debasing if I get ripped of my position and have to transfer. It would go down in the history books! I'd be shamed for life!"

"That's the one thing that Malfoy doesn't do, and he's proud of it. He doesn't ever _make_ anyone transfer, but most people do just because they're so scared of his wrath."

"And believe me, living under his wrath isn't pleasant," added Ron. "Haven't you heard all those horror stories of what he has done to people?"

Hermione nodded and rested her head on the table, feeling miserable, but trying to be optimistic. "I'm Head Girl, he can't do anything to me." She sounded less than confident.

Their skepticism toward her words was displayed on their faces and she whimpered.

"Or can he?"

~*~

"Thank you for escorting me back to my room," said Hermione, with appreciation in her voice, as she stopped behind the portrait that led to her Head Girl dormitory.

"We just want you to be safe," Harry said. "I'm worried for you."

"Yeah, from now on, you probably shouldn't go anywhere without having someone with you."

"You're right," Hermione said and forced a weak laugh. "Safety in numbers, right?"

They nodded.

"I should be getting to bed and so should the two of you. Wouldn't want to be late for class tomorrow, would we?" Then she muttered under her breath, "If I live to see tomorrow morning."

She turned to her portrait and reached into her robes for her wand. It was then that she remembered that she had accidentally left her wand in her room. "Shoot."

"What's wrong?"

"I left my wand in my room. I can't perform the spell to unlock the portrait without my wand. Can I borrow your wand?"

"Sorry, I don't have mine." Harry said, and he truly looked it.

Ron shook his head also. "It's in my room."

"Okay," said Hermione, as she began to feel the first signs of frustration. "Maybe if we pull really hard we can pull the portrait open."

The two boys looked skeptically at Hermione, but nevertheless stepped forward to lend her a helping hand. The three of the tugged and pulled on the portrait, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, exhausted, sweaty - and very smelly, Hermione noted - Harry and Ron gave up.

"It's no use."

Hermione, as stubborn as she was, decided that if the portrait wouldn't open for her, then she'd at least curse at it to make herself feel better. Or _try_ to curse, at least.

"You half-witted piece of canvas! You're a waste of a perfectly good wooden frame! Open up!"

The portrait clicked open.

The two boys just stared at her. "How'd you do that?"

Hermione, her eyes open wide with surprise, could only shake her head. "I don't know. I really don't know." Then she made an ugly face and stuck out her tongue. "Maybe it felt sorry for me."

The two boys were questioned her words. "Objects don't have feelings, Hermione. How did you do magic without a wand?"

Hermione stepped inside the portrait and shrugged. "It's just a coincidence or something. Anyhow, I've got to go to bed. Good night."

And with that, she swung the portrait closed.

~*~

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling very tired and groggy. Perhaps it was because she couldn't fall asleep last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she envisioned Malfoy picking her up and stuffing her in a sack and throwing her in the closet, locking her in and leaving her to die of starvation. But then when she did finally fall asleep, the dreams were even more horrid. As bad as being awake was, being asleep was even worse.

In one dream, he was chasing her through the chamber of secrets with a large machete in his hand while she was screaming bloody murder. In another, he threw her down a cliff and she fell and fell and fell down into the flaming fires of hell. And then there was the one in which he transformed himself into a dementor and was chasing after her to give her a kiss.

But as bad as they were, those dreams were only the least of her worries.

Ever since she was little, she had had nightmares - terrible nightmares every night. And it was the same thing over and over again - a dark haired sinister man standing in the shadows of a great tree, holding a red rose, offering it to her. When she was little, she would wake up crying and crying from the dream, but as she grew older she learned to control her fear.

But lately, the dream had changed. It had intensified. Instead of waking up when the man offered her a rose like she did originally, lately, she had seen herself take the rose and then the truly terrible images surface. Horrific images of the same man kissing her and holding her and touching her in ways she would blush to tell. And she would wake up screaming and drenched with cold sweat.

That was why she hated the nights, but loved the day. She loved how the sun shone into the room, lighting it up and chasing the demons away.

On this particular morning, she woke up very groggy, due to her lack of sleep, and walked almost trance-like into the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush. Of course this was the first thing she did in the mornings - her parents were dentists after all, and to them, brushing the teeth was the most important thing in the world - period. Her eyes were half closed as she squeezed what she imagined was a good-sized amount of the toothpaste onto her toothbrush and brought it up to her mouth.

She brushed slowly because she was so sleepy and it wasn't until about half minute later that she realized something was wrong. Her toothpaste tasted weird. It tasted different. A disgusting kind of different.

This finally brought Hermione back to her senses and she spit the imposter substance out instinctively. She looked into the mirror to see her teeth and what met her eyes caused her to drop her toothbrush.

Her teeth, her beautiful white teeth, she observed as her anger began to rise, was now black as a coal mine. And that's when she recognized the sickening taste in her mouth. 

It was tar.

How did her perfectly good toothpaste, which she just used the night before, all of a sudden turn into tar? Someone or something must have caused that change. She wondered what kind of a person would do something like this to her. She didn't have any enemies - at least she didn't believe so. After all, nobody could hate her so much that they'd go through the trouble to sneak into her room and fill her tube of toothpaste with tar. Would they?

Her mind began to run through all the names of students at school who might have held a grudge against her for whatever reason. And then she finally realized it. She remembered what horrible event had occurred the day before. Her chocolately eyes glittered dangerously as her mind settled on one name.

_Draco Malfoy, prepare to die..._

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: As I said, this story will start on a light note, but it's supposed to be a dark story. Next chapter will be even lighter as we watch Draco and Hermione battle it out, but it will ultimately be a dark story, I warn, just in case you don't like dark stories.

And please, if you could, It would be greatly appreciated if you would review! I love reviews, and any constructive criticism is great, just don't make it too mean! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

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A/N: This is the second chapter and it is a little stupid. The real plot of the story won't begin to come out until probably either chapter three or four. The little details in chapter one and two are really important to the plot and will come into play later.

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Thanks to my reviewers: shadowcat, ..., c_fleurbleue, hope, 'div, Blue Snowflake, and HouAreYouToday

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Two

Hermione peeked tentatively into the classroom and made sure that Professor Binn's back was turned towards her before she dared to tip-toe inside. Observing that the seat between Harry and Ron was empty, she slipped into it silently. She set her books softly on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment. Reaching into her bag again, she drew out a small quill with a purple feather on it.

As soon as she had settled herself, Ron nudged her. "Where've you been?"

She shook her head at him. Talking was most definitely not something she would do while the professor was lecturing.

Dipping her quill into the black ink, she began to scribble down some notes. Okay, so maybe she was scribbling down everything Professor Binns was saying. It even amazed her that her hands never got tired. She could write and write and write and keep on writing while others in her place would probably at least have to take a five-minute break.

She was so engrossed in her note-taking that she didn't even notice someone had entered the room until Professor Binns words stopped and her quill halted on the parchment. With an annoyed sigh she looked up from the parchment and her gaze met a wizard that she had never seen before. He was short and was wearing a hideous brown robe with red stripes across it. The hair at the top of his head was thinning and his eyes were droopy. Hermione thought he looked liked a dog.

Professor Binns, after briefly speaking to this mystery man, scanned the room and motioned for her to walk up to him. Unfortunately, he also summoned Draco, for what purpose Hermione didn't know and didn't really care to know either. She hoped it didn't have to do anything with her being late. He couldn't have seen, could he? She reassured herself that Binns would not have called up Draco if he was just going to tell her to serve detention for her tardiness.

"This is the photographer for the Daily Prophet, and he has expressed his wish to put a picture of the Head Girl and Head Boy, you two, into the newspaper," Professor Binns droned in his monotonous voice.

Out of all the days they could have picked to take pictures it just _had_ to be today, didn't it? Hermione cursed the Daily Prophet silently.

"I want you to stand right here," said the man, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and shifting her closer to Draco. He, however, scooted farther away, leaving quite a large space between them two. It wasn't until after the photographer motioned urgently for him to move toward her that he finally, with a disgusted look, closed the gap between them.

The photographer picked up the camera that was in his hands and held it up to his eyes. It took a few minutes for him to adjust the camera and then finally he was ready to take the picture.

"Smile."

Hermione was about to put on a nice, flashy smile - that is, until she remembered the incident earlier that morning. She had spent an hour trying to get all the tar off of her teeth - which was the reason why she was late to the class, but it had not done much. He must have charmed it so that it would stick - and stick well to whatever it was put on. That reminded her that the person who caused her so much grief over her teeth was none other than the boy was currently standing next to her. She wanted to strangle him.

Instead, she grinned sweetly into the camera, hoping that it was close enough to a smile. It was actually a difficult task - curling up the sides of her lips while preventing any of her teeth to show.

The photographer shook his head at her. "Smile."

With obvious effort, she tried as hard as she could to curl her lips up just a little more. The photographer was still not pleased and was frowning upon her. Before she realized it, he had whipped out his hand and whispered a spell that was very familiar. What was it? Then suddenly she knew - it was the laughing spell.

Before she could turn around, she had already begun to laugh, displaying her tar-stained teeth to the whole class.

_Click._

Okay, so there went her whole life. She was so embarrassed - not only had her classmates seen the condition of her teeth, the whole wizarding world as about to - just as soon as the next edition of the Daily Prophet came out. 

"Finite Incantatem!"

She stopped laughing and scowled, pushing past the photographer and returning to her seat. She had lost all her chances of ever becoming the Minister of Magic. After all, who wanted a minister with bad teeth? And her teeth were beyond just _bad_.

Her eyes began to wander around the room as her mind drifted off into the ocean of imagination to cool off from the humiliation. Suddenly, she caught a pair of eyes staring intently at her. Snapping back into reality, she saw Draco Malfoy's silvery eyes settle on her with a look of absolutely rapture. She clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white and vowed to seek her revenge.

~*~

"That photographer should be sued."

"Hermione, really, it's not _that_ bad."

"What do you mean 'it's not that bad'? Look at the condition of my teeth!" She spat out venomously as she grabbed a bowl of salad on the table and began to pour some italian dressing over it.

Harry put down his fork and wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "Okay, so your teeth _do_ look terrible - "

" - but Malfoy could have done worse," Ron finished for him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm surprised actually," said Harry. "Usually he doesn't let people off the hook that easily."

"Maybe he's scared of me," Hermione said taking another bite of the watermelon. "After all, I've been thinking of a million ways to get back at him. He _should_ be scared of me."

"Maybe," Ron said, although he didn't sound so sure of it.

It was very doubtful - and all of them knew it.

~*~

"I swear, Snape is trying to murder us with his tests!" Ron exclaimed as the trio stepped out from the darkness of the dungeons.

"I completely agree - he doesn't ever tell us half the stuff that's on there!" Harry said. "Don't you agree, Hermione?"

"Wait, don't ask _her_, Harry! Her opinion doesn't count!"

Hermione, who was a few steps in front of the boys, spun around. "It wasn't that hard - all you had to do was to read the chapter - everything was in there."

"The chapter was seventy-two pages long!" Ron cried. "Did he really expect us to remember everything in it?"

"Honestly, Ron, it wasn't hard at all," she said sternly, but then frowned. "Except for one of the bonus questions I did have a bit of trouble with. I couldn't quite remember all the seven sicknesses that wolf hair could be used for, but I hope I got them all right."

"Are you going back to the common room?" Harry asked her. "Or the library?"

"The common room," she said, "to write my essay."

Harry nodded. "Alright, that's where Ron and I were going."

To their surprise, she suddenly swept past them. Harry was about to speak up and ask what her problem was, but she turned around and spoke first. "But first, I _really_ need to use the bathroom."

And with that, she hurried into the girl's bathroom, her robe swishing behind her.

Upon entering, she took in the smell of a hundred different perfumes filling the air. It was so thick that she could almost see the swirls of perfumes circling in the air. For a moment, she almost choked.

There was only one working toilet in the bathroom and that stall unfortunately was currently taken. Soon, however, Hermione heard the flush of the toilet and the lock turned. Out stepped her favorite person in the world.

Pansy Parkinson.

Hermoine didn't even bother to pretend she was glad to see her. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and pursed her lips.

Pansy, however, took a completely different approach.

"Oh, how nice to see you here," she said in her very fake honeyed voice, which Hermione couldn't stand. "How _are_ you?"

"Just fine," Hermione said, not attempting to be polite. In fact, she tried to sound as snotty and arrogant as she could.

"I'll just be a second, I forgot my purse." Pansy hurried back into the stall, shutting the door with a loud bang behind her. She spent about a minute in there, for what reason Hermione didn't know. She didn't _care_ either - all she wanted to do was to use the bathroom. Hermione cursed her for taking so long - for God's sake she had to pee!

When Pansy reemerged, Hermione noticed that she still didn't have her purse.

"Oh, dear me, I must have left it in the dungeons." She flashed Hermione another sugary smile before flipping her hair and sauntering out of the bathroom.

Hermione made a face towards her retreating back. It smelled so much nice now that Pansy was gone. Hermione couldn't stand the girl. Just like all the rest of the Slytherins, Pansy Parkinson belonged to a very prominent wizarding family who didn't deserve all the money they had. Her family, like the others, worshipped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and practiced the dark arts. So it was no surprise to her when she heard rumors last week that Pansy was to get the Dark Mark in just a few months.

After Pansy had left for good, she entered the stall. Finally, after waiting for so long, she could use the toilet. It was too good to be true.

A minute later, when she was done, she quickly stood up. Except she didn't. She _couldn't_. She tried again. She couldn't budge.

It was then that she realized the hopelessness of her situation. Her derriere was planted firmly on the toilet seat and she couldn't get it off. 

She attempted a few more times not wanting to give up, but it did absolutely nothing. Damn, she was in a mess.

This bathroom was near the dungeons. Nobody ever came near the dungeons unless they had Potions. Who'd willing want to be around Snape? And unfortunately, classes had just ended for the day. There was no hope of anyone stumbling into this desolate bathroom and saving her.

The thought of being stuck there all night didn't serve to raise Hermione's spirits. Instead, she put her head down gloomily onto her knees and whimpered. She was ready to cry. Any moment now, the tears would start flowing. It was going to be a long night.

Of course she knew who had done this. Pansy Parkinson, that little wrench. What purse? I was so obvious that she had come in here to put a spell on the toilet. Hermione hated herself for being so stupid. Pansy was probably serving under the orders of her beloved Draco Malfoy. Hermione hated both of them. Hell, she hated _all_ the Slytherins.

Anger arose inside of her and it completely consumed her. She hated him. She hated her. She wanted to shove both of their pretty little faces down the toilet. God, damn, she hated them. She hated how they treated her. She hated how they treated everyone. The Slytherins have always thought they were the best house. And sure, maybe they were the best in the dark arts but Hermione never found that fact so magnificent to be bragging about. She hoped that one day when they were all big bad death eaters that she would be the auror who caught them. That, she decided, would be her new goal in life. Screw being the minister.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally heard a noise that sounded relatively like "Hermione."

She wondered if it was her imagination. After all, being in a situation like this could cause hallucination in even the sanest of people, but decided she might as well try.

"I'm here!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

There was a long pause in which she sunk back into misery, realizing that the voice was just a pigment of her imagination. And then - 

"You're _still_ in there?" The voice belonged to Ron.

"Aren't you done yet?" She recognized this as Harry's voice.

She made a sound in her throat, almost like a wail. "Help me!"

There was another pause. God, she hoped they didn't leave. "It's the girl's bathroom..."

"Get in here!" she cried with such stubbornness that they finally followed her orders.

It was so much easier to talk once they were in the bathroom, Hermione realized. She didn't even have to yell anymore.

"Help me, you idiots!"

"Have you been turned into a cat again? What have you been trying to do this time?" Ron said exasperatedly.

Hermione really didn't want to tell them. She really didn't. But, as they were her only source of hope, she sort of had to.

"I can't get up."

Pause.

"What do you mean you can't get up?"

It was too embarrassing to say. She didn't want to tell them. What would they think? Would they laugh? Then she realized that she would find out one way or another and she _really_ wanted to get off this toilet as soon as possible. Ok, she'd spill it all.

"I mean I can't get my butt off the toilet seat!"

Pause.

"_What?_" came two shocked voices in perfect unison.

"My butt is glued to the toilet seat. Do I need to repeat it for you? Glued to toilet seat, glued to toilet seat, glued to toilet seat..."

Another pause.

"_What?_"

"Honestly, is that all you two can say?" When there was no answer, she grew frustrated. "_Get me off of here!_"

"Okay, so we'll come and unscrew the toilet seat from the toilet," said Ron, after pondering for a short second.

"And what? Have me walk back to my room with a toilet seat on my butt?" came Hermione's frustrated voice from inside the stall.

"Here, let us see what exactly is going on," said Harry as footsteps neared her stall door. Was he going to just barge in?

"No!" she cried frantically as she leaned forward and pressed against the stall door. "You can't come in! I haven't got my pants on!"

"Then there's only one thing we can do..."

"What?"

"We'll go get McGonagall."

"No!" she cried in terror. What would her favorite professor in the world think of her if she found her in such a predicament?

"It's our only choice."

"No!"

"Fine, I guess we'll have to leave you here."

"Wait!" she cried. God, she hoped they wouldn't just leave here there. Okay, so she'd agree with them. It would be better than being stuck here all night.

"Okay, fine."

~*~

It would be too much of an understatement to say that Hermione was cranky the next morning. She was angry and humiliated - all her pride and her dignity had vaporized. After Professor McGonagall had come to her rescue, despite the fact that it was horribly embarrassing, she was able to remove her from the toilet seat at last.

So here she was now, hunched gloomily over her bowl of porridge, stirring it aimlessly. She was really in a very bad mood.

And it certainly didn't make it better when she caught Draco grinning at her from the Slytherin table, wearing a look of absolute ecstasy on his face. He was happy that he had humiliated her - felt no remorse whatsoever. What kind of a person was he? Her eyes darkened as a fire began to burn within her. She hated him. She hated him with an unsurpassable passion. She couldn't even explain or put in words how absolutely disgusted he made her feel. She wanted to stick a knife into his neck right then and there. She wanted to pull his strands of silver hair one by one out of his head and cut his body into little pieces and...

The shiny silver spoon she was stirring her porridge with came down with a smack onto the wooden table. The sudden sound caused every Gryffindor's eyes to shoot up and focus on her.

With a stubborn determination she pushed the bowl away and stood up stiffly from the chair, her eyes glazed. Not giving a second thought or caring to notice the worried looks on her friends' faces, she stomped across the hall, her shoes clunking on the stone floor with every step she took.

Before she knew it, her legs had carried her over to none other than Draco Malfoy. God, she hated him. And then it all came out in a torrent of anger.

"You really think you're on top of the world don't you? You think that just because your daddy's got mountains of gold in Gringotts you can do anything you want to. Well guess what? You thought wrong!" she screamed into his face. "You're nothing but a spoiled brat. You've never worked for anything in your life! You want a broomstick? Daddy buys you a broomstick. You want to play quidditch? Daddy buys you into the team. You think you're God in this school but you're really just a little boy who has never minded any manners, never cared about anyone besides your own filthy self! I _hate_ you!"

Before he could answer - she didn't want to hear his answer anyway - she grabbed one of the glasses of milk sitting on the table and turned it upside down over his head. His hair became drenched as the white liquid dribbled down his face and stained his velvet robes.

Hermione instantly regretted ever doing that. She regretted coming up to his table and yelling at him. She regretted everything. The look on his face was enough to scare her clear out of her wits. And she knew that she was in for it.

~*~

"Okay, so now you're really in for it."

"Thanks, Parvati, for repeating the obvious to me." She had spoken Hermione's exact thoughts.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know...I really don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I don't really want to think about it."

Parvati twirled her black hair in her fingers playfully. "I'm thinking that - "

" - Miss Patil, if you would refrain from speaking during class," came the voice of Professor Atumul. She was a middle-aged witch with dark, tanned skin and large black eyes that could almost read into your soul. She spoke with a slight Egyptian accent - it sounded very exotic in Hermione's opinion.

"Sorry," said Parvati, ducking her head to hide her blush.

"Now, as I'm sure you have all done your reading last night, I would like to start a class discussion about the material covered. I'm sure you've all found great interest in the legend and..."

As the professor's voice continued, Parvarti groaned and massaged her aching temples. "Hermione, remind me again why I decided to take this course."

"Because Ancient Egyptian history is very interesting," said Hermione in a hurried whisper. She usually didn't talk during classes, but today - well, today was just special. "And I know that you'd like to be able to read hieroglyphics."

"Miss Granger."

Hermione's head shot up and she hoped that the professor had not heard her whispers.

"Yes, Professor?" she said sweetly, crossing her fingers.

"Please, tell me what you thought about the reading."

Hermione released a relieved sigh - the professor hadn't noticed. "Of course it was _very_ interesting to read about that particular legend. I thoroughly enjoyed it."

Professor Atumul turned her gaze upon Parvati, much to her displeasure. "Miss Patil, would you please give the class a brief summary about the reading?"

Parvati's eyes grew wide with horror and her complexion turned deathly pale. She glanced towards her friend for help and nudged arm. Hermione sighed with a small shake of her head and knew that Parvati had not done reading. She was very disappointed in Parvati and her glare showed it. However, she wasn't going to just let her friend sink to the pits.

"If you would like, Professor, I would love give my summary of it," said Hermione, stepping in for her friend. Parvarti gave her an appreciative look and sunk down into her seat with relief.

"Yes, please, go on," said the professor with a graceful wave of her hand.

"The reading was centered on the mysteries of the Pharoah Mentuemhat. The legend goes that he came in to power when he was very young due to his father's early death, and ruled his people fairly and justly. However, he mysteriously died young and there are many stories that try to explain his death. Some say that he sold his soul to the devil, while others say that he was murdered by his wife, Queen Sithathoryunet. The reading addressed the fact that he might have not even existed and might just be a story that was passed on. There is no evidence of him - just tales by mouth passed on from generation to generation."

The professor smiled upon Hermione, her black eyes glittering. "Do you believe it?"

"No," she answered confidently, "it's all just rubbish in my opinion. They've tried to find his tomb for _years_ and have not succeeded. Unless they have actual proof, I don't believe a word of it. Although some do argue that his tomb was probably destroyed by grave robbers, I still doubt the story. It's just an Egyptian fairy tale."

"Ah, but all fairy tales have truths behind them," she said, and then addressed the whole class. "I myself, born and raised in Egypt, believe the legend, as do all other Egyptians. There are many stories surrounding the event of his death - too many to name, but I believe he existed." She almost looked sad for a moment, but that moment passed as quickly as it had come. "Alright, enough of that, please look at the symbols I have drawn on the board and use what you have learned from past classes to decipher it."

The rest of the class went by smoothly - Hermione worked diligently while Parvati saw it as nap-time. Hermione took very few minutes to translate the line of symbols on the board. She, of course, had studied. Egyptian history had always intrigued her for some reason and she loved learning about it. There was just something that pulled her magnetically to it, although she couldn't name the feeling. She practically had the whole textbook memorized. Parvati on the other hand had never even touched her textbook. So it wasn't surprising that she just copied Hermione's answers right off her parchment and passed it off as her own.

When class finally ended, Parvati left to meet Seamus and Hermione met up with Harry and Ron, who had just finished with Divination. The three headed down to Hagrid's hut for tea. They hadn't talked to him in quite a while and were anxious to see him.

"I can't believe Trelawney assigned us so much homework."

"That class is so dull. It's obvious she's a fake," muttered Ron.

Hermione gave them the I-told-you-so look. "What did I tell you guys? You should have switched out of her class years ago. But would you listen to me? No! It's your own fault."

The three friends were deep in conversation as they crossed the freshly cut grass, but Hermione took in the smell of smoke.

"Smell that?" asked Ron. Hermione was glad she wasn't the only one who smelled it. She had thought that maybe her nose had gone funny.

"Yes. Where's it coming from?"

Harry traced the smell of smoke and looked towards the lake see what the source of it was. And then he saw.

His voice was completely serious when he spoke up.

"Hermione, don't look."

Naturally, she did.

What met her eyes was not a pleasant sight. There were mountains of books piled onto the grass about a hundred feet to her right, near the lake. The books weren't just sitting there - they were burning. With a gasp, she began to head toward the flames, interested. Who in the world would be burning books?

When she neared, she made one observation - these were _her_ books. These were the books that _she_ had brought to Hogwarts and kept in her own small collection in her room. Some of these she had had since she was only a small child. Some of them were gifts from relatives on special occasions. Each one held a different memory. Each was special. And they were burning.

A small wail escaped her lips as she finally realized what was happening. Was this a dream? No, it wasn't. She was ready to cry - really ready to cry. She saw the book that her grandmother had given her when she was three. It was the last book she had given her before she died so she swore she'd keep it forever. But now, it was burning and half of it was already just ashes. All the books burning slowly right in front of her eyes.

The heat of hatred began to rise inside of her.

Her eyes searched the scene frantically and finally landed upon one person. Draco Malfoy. She wanted to glare at him, but she couldn't - she was too close to tears. The last thing she wanted was to let him see her cry. He couldn't see her cry. She would never let him see her cry. A tear was on the verge of falling.

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?" he asked cheerfully, with a hint of arrogance, and then brushed past her and headed into the castle.

How dare he speak to her, she thought. She was ready to race up to him and punch him. Instead she kept quiet. It wasn't until a little while after that she realized there were tears coming out of her eyes. She was completely numb. She had loved her books. Really really really loved her books. Those books had taken her years to save up - she had had _hundreds_ and they were all precious to her. And now they were burning and there was nothing she could do about it but sink into her own misery. They were gone and she'd never be able to get them back and it was all that jerk's fault. She slowly wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her robe, determined not to let him get to her no matter what.

"Don't cry, Hermione."

"I'm not," she replied as she wiped her eyes again.

"Yes you are."

"It's just because of the smoke. It's making me tear. I'm not crying," she said stubbornly with a sniff.

"Hermione, don't be like that."

"Harry! You don't know how much those books meant to me!" She was freely sobbing now and had to wipe her eyes constantly. "Gosh, I'm such a baby! Look at me, I'm _crying!_ I don't _cry!_"

"If it makes you feel any better, we'll help you get back at him."

She stared at Harry, and then at Ron with her swollen eyes. "You guys would do that for me?"

They nodded together.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I don't want you to get involved. I'm already in far too deep, I can't let you two get involved."

"What kind of friends would we be if we didn't help you during your time of need?" This surprised her - she didn't think Ron was capable of saying something so thoughtful like that.

Hermione finally nodded and sniffed. "Okay, so you can help me think of ideas of how to get back at him."

"Oh, if only Fred and George were still here!" said Ron, looking disappointed.

As sad as Hermione was, Ron's words brought a smile to her face. "So, come with me back to my room and we'll brainstorm."

"We'll get him back for you Hermione. We'll get him back good."

So forgetting all about Hagrid, they hurried back into the castle and into Hermione's private Head Girl dormitory. Sitting down on the nice plush carpet, they began to talk about the different way to inflict pain on Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly, Hermione snapped out of her gloomy state and she spoke up excitedly. "I've got a wicked idea."

"Tell us!"

Hermione looked around nervously, as if there might be people listening who she wouldn't want listening.

"There's nobody else here," said Ron, glancing around too. "This is your room, isn't it?"

"Well, Draco or one of his people were able to get in apparently..."

"I'm sure nobody's in here right now."

"Alright, fine, I'll tell you." She paused hesitantly.

"So? Tell us."

"It's horrid," she said, making a face.

"You're keeping me in suspense. Spill it already."

"Come with me - I hope I have it."

She hurried to a large trunk that sat in the corner of her room. After unlocking it with a key, she lifted the lid off. Inside there was duffel bag and she reached into the duffel bag with searching hands.

"I was at my cousin's house this summer and she's absolutely the most crazy person in the universe. I don't see how we could possibly be related. Of course that's besides the point..."

"What's the point?"

"When I went home, I accidentally took her duffel bag with me. I think I saw something in there that could help us. I was actually supposed to return the bag to her at King's Cross, but I was running late and I suppose she got tired of waiting for me and left. So I had to bring it to school."

"So what is it?"

"Wait, let me find it." She sifted though the contents of the duffel.

"Oh, will you tell us already!"

Suddenly, her hands found what they were looking for and her lips curled up into an evil smile. Oh, yes, she would make him pay.

"Oh, this is really terrible," she said, shaking her head.

"Show us!"

"I can't, I feel like such a - "

"Spill it!" Ron cried impatiently.

"Really, it's really horrid."

"Tell us already!"

"It's really terrible."

"Oh, c'mon already!"

"Fine."

She bought the object out of the trunk and held it in her hands for them to see. It was a medium-sized rectangular box and they leaned in closer to read what written on it. The trio's faces were lit with wicked glee as they saw the label.

_L'Oreal Paris Haircolour: Intense Copper Red_

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Yeah, so this is the end of chapter two. I promise that the interesting stuff will come out soon - just not yet. I think that maybe the real plot will be sort of introduced in the next chapter or the one after that. And all of the little details in chapter one and two will come into play later in the story. Every little teenie detail is important. Please Review!!!


	3. Chapter 3

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

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A/N: Yeah, so this is chapter three and it's kind of dumb...but oh well!

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Thanks to my reviewers: tainted black, "I Dunno," emeraldjjw, 'div, ..., shadowcat, and Michelle L. Bordeaux

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Three

Hermione entered the densely packed Great Hall with her friend Lavender beside her and the two of them sat side by side at the Gryffindor table. As soon as their bottoms were seated in the chair, a bowl of porridge appeared in front of both of them along with a silver spoon. Both of them groaned - porridge _again!_

Hermione was just about ready to dig in when she heard Lavender emit a sad whimper. She saw that Lavender's eyes were not set on the bowl of porridge, but on something else. Quickly, Hermione turned and fixed her gaze upon what Lavender was staring at.

Draco Malfoy had just entered the Great Hall with his arm wrapped around a smug looking Pansy Parkinson. They were being so unbelievably touchy to each other that Hermione felt like throwing up.

"Lavender," she said, her tone full of warning, "don't look."

Lavender whimpered again and kept her gaze on the couple.

"Lavender, if you don't turn your head around this moment, I will do it for you."

The young brunette shook her head as a tear crept out from the corner of her eye. "Look at her! She's so beautiful! How can I compare to her?"

Hermione set her hand on Lavender's head and turned it the other way so that she could no longer stare at Draco and Pansy.

"How could I have thought that he'd want me when he had someone like her?" Lavender sniffed.

"Lavender, it's ok. You're much better than her anyway."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. Pansy Parkinson is just a complete fake."

Lavender ignored everything she said. "Look at her! She's like a genuine Barbie doll!"

Hermione emitted a frustrated sigh. "Lavender, the only thing that Pansy Parkinson and a Barbie doll has got in common is that they're both made out of plastic."

Lavender looked unbelievingly at her friend. Hermione rolled her eyes, let out another enormous sigh and pointed at Pansy Parkinson.

"I mean how do you _really_ think she got rid of that pug nose of hers?"

Lavender chose not to believe a word Hermione was saying. "Yeah right - you're just jealous - just like me."

"Why in the hell would I be jealous of her?" Hermione asked angrily, taking Lavender's comment as an insult.

"Because she's gorgeous!"

"Lavender, I'm _not_ jealous of her and neither should you! _Why_ would you be jealous of her? I mean, people like her have to _hire_ someone to blow out the candles on their birthday cakes."

"Why?"

"Because if her face got too close to the flame, it'd melt."

Lavender ignored her yet again, and in the end, Hermione gave up - Lavender was just impossible.

~*~

It was hard to believe, but Hermione Granger was having a good day. She had almost been able to purge her memory of those ordeals she had suffered through the past few days and now sat smiling in the dungeons with her classmates, awaiting Professor Snape's entrance.

The mere thought of seeing Draco Malfoy with red hair caused her to emit a loud chuckle which hammered the silence of the dungeons, and she soon covered her mouth when she realized that many eyes were on her. For years Malfoy had teased Ron about his hair, and she couldn't wait to see how he would react to having the same flaming red hair color. It was going to be great - her biggest feat yet.

The sudden swish of a heavy cloak announced the professor's arrival and Hermione's eyes snapped to the front of the dungeon.

"I will be passing your tests back shortly," he said with a sneer, eyeing the whole class. "I was very disappointed in how low the marks were for this test."

The students glanced nervously around the dark dungeon, each hoping that his or her test didn't receive bad marks. Hermione, however, was confident that she did extremely well on the test. She had known almost every answer except for the bonus questions, which she made very educated guesses on.

"However," the professor began again, his thin lips twisting sinisterly, "I am elated to announce that Mr. Malfoy here received the highest score in the class - a one hundred and five percent."

Hermione couldn't see how Snape could ever be elated - in all her years at Hogwarts she had never seen him smile kindly. She also couldn't see how Draco Malfoy, the insolent bastard, could have done better on the test than she did. He _never_ did better than her. _No one_ did better than her. No one _could_ do better than her. She was the smartest witch in Hogwarts and she failed to believe that anyone was smarter than she was.

The Slytherins cheered loudly for Malfoy while the Gryffindors sat as still as rocks. Apparently they also failed to believe how the twitching ferret could have received better marks than their own Hermione Granger.

Malfoy received his test back first and then the professor began to hand the test pamphlets back to each student in the classroom. Hermione wanted to see her score - she wanted to see - to have proof from her very own eyes that her score was lower than Malfoys. Finally, Professor Snape halted in front of her desk and cautiously set her test pamphlet down on her test - making sure that it was upside down.

Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed the pamphlet and flipped it around, eager to see her score. What met her eyes was truly horrifying and she sat stupefied for a long time before she could move or do anything. She thought that the darkness of the dungeons had fooled her eyes, so then she looked again, just to make sure. And sure enough, the same score was still there, printed in large red letters.

_13%...Fail..._

Her hands crumpled the test as she fought for self-control. This couldn't be happening. It _couldn't_ be happening to her. She had been so sure that she had done wonderfully on the test. How could she possibly have gotten such a low score? Had anyone in the history of Hogwarts ever gotten such a low score? She doubted it. Her embarrassment soon vanished and anger took its place as she settled upon a new theory.

She took the crumpled test back into her hands and smoothed it out. Looking over it carefully, she realized that her theory was right. This wasn't her test. Yes, so it did say Hermione Granger in the name column at the top, but the whole thing wasn't her handwriting. The writing on the test was an ugly scribble - she herself couldn't decipher it. Everyone knew that Hermione Granger had the best penmanship in the school. How could anyone in his right mind mistake this awful scribble for her neat writing?

_Draco Malfoy_. Those two words burned into her. _He_ was the one who had done this. _He_ was the one who had made it happen. And now, her marks were too low for her to ever to be able to redeem herself. Snape would never believe her - he hated all Gryffindors with a passion. In fact, he was probably in on this too!

She vowed to seek her revenge - she already had it planned and it would soon be carried out. She couldn't wait.

After all the tests were returned to their owners, Snape explained to the class that they would be brewing a firecracker potion for the rest of the class time. As usual, Hermione partnered up with Ron and Harry and the three set out to brewing the best potion in the class.

For this particular experiment, they were required to use a large school cauldron. The cauldron was black and old and stood over five feet high. Ron studied the instructions as Harry and Hermione prepared the ingredients. It was when Hermione was chopping the prenadatis roots when Harry began whispering to her.

"We've got it all planned out."

"What?" asked Hermione, a little loudly.

Harry shushed her and began to speak again. "We'll need to brew a sleeping potion."

"Why?" Hermione asked dumbly.

"How else are we going to dye Malfoy's hair? We'll need to knock him out for at least two hours - three or four preferably - just to be safe."

"Right," she said, realizing now what Harry was getting at.

"So you need to create a diversion while Ron and I sneak into Snape's private cupboards for ingredients."

Hermione stared strangely at him. "Harry, we don't need anything of his! The sleeping draught is simple to make - it requires only simple ingredients which we all have!"

"But that draught is not very strong and lasts only two hours _at most_. We need more time than that."

"You're right," said Hermione, pondering what she could do. "I'll try to disrupt Snape and you two can get the ingredients."

They became quiet again as Professor Snape approached the front of the class. "Now, I'm sure you're all finished with the preparations. Your next step is to appoint a group member to throw all the ingredients into the cauldron and stir it once. Then that person will need to glance quickly into it and see if the contents have turned a yellow color. If it is yellow, then you have done the procedure correctly. I must warn you that as soon as you throw in ingredients in, you will have approximately ten seconds before the fire cracker potion sets off. In those ten seconds you'll need to check the color of the potion - to see if it's the correct color - and hurry to the other side of the dungeon unless of course, you'd prefer to be blown up by the firecrackers. So, on the count of three, every group must throw their ingredients in."

"I'll do it," said Hermione, "and check the color. Harry, Ron, you guys go to the other side of the room and if you have a chance, get into Snape's cupboards."

Snape began his count. "One...two...three!"

Hermione tossed the basket of prepared ingredients into the cauldron and stirred the contents once with a large stick. As the cauldron was over five feet tall, she had to hoist herself up by the edges of the cauldron to be able to see into it clearly. Yes, it was yellow - they had done it right. And now, she had about five seconds left before the potion would blow to hurry to the other side of the room into safety.

She lowered herself and tried to make her way to the far side of the dungeons when her heart sunk. No, it _couldn't_ be happening again. She couldn't remove her hands from the edges of the cauldron. They just _wouldn't_ come off. She pulled and pulled until she thought that her bones would dislocate, but it did absolutely nothing. The glue was too strong and her hands were stuck firmly to the sides of the cauldron - and there was nothing she could do about it. The rising heat of the cauldron made her senses swim and her head was pounding furiously. Somewhere in the midst of it all, she could hear people yelling at her - but those were only faint noises. And then there was a very loud explosion, like a billion pots and pans banging together at the same time. And then there was silence.

Hermione thought for sure that she was dead, but when she opened her eyes she saw the cauldron in front of her and she was no longer attached to it. She was now lying on her back and her hands had a sticky feel to them. She realized that the heat of the explosion must have caused the glue to melt and sent her flying backward onto the hard concrete floor where she now laid.

All the energy had left her and she couldn't move a twitch. She closed her eyes again and waited until two strong arms lifted her from the ground and carried her away.

~*~

When she came to her senses, she found herself lying in the hospital wing. Her head still hurt and it took her eyes a bit a time before they could focus and take in the surroundings.

"She's awake!" came a voice and she saw that it had come from her best friend Ron.

She turned her head slowly and saw Harry at her side, holding her hand, and Ron rushing quickly to her side. Her vision was fuzzy and she blinked a couple of times to focus.

"How long have I been here?" she asked softly.

"Three hours. You really worried us." Harry's green eyes looked sincere. "When I carried you here, I thought you were dead already."

"Hermione, when Harry told you to make a big scene to create a diversion, he didn't mean to try to kill yourself!" Ron whispered harshly, but with care.

Her energy and vitality came back to her in a rush when she remembered exactly what had happened and the anger returned. "I didn't do it on purpose. I'm not that stupid. My hands were stuck to the cauldron and I'm pretty sure I know who did it."

"You could have died!"

"I know. But I didn't." Hermione fingered the chain around her neck and felt for the pendant that hung from it. "I was wearing my lucky charm. It must have saved me."

"Hermione, that's just all in your head."

"No, it's not," Hermione said stubbornly this time, taking the purple pendant out from underneath her robes.

They decided not to argue with her. "We'll get him back today - we'll get him back good."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Have you two got the ingredients?"

"Yes," said Harry mischievously. "We've got the potion done already and we'll do it tonight."

~*~

Slipping the sleeping draught into Draco Malfoy's drink had been easy enough. And breaking into his private dormitory hadn't been that hard either. But now came the difficult part - actually completing the _real_ task.

The three were now standing at the foot of Malfoy's bed, taking in the surroundings. It was a large canopy bed with silky green pillows and smooth silver sheets. The drapes that hung from the canopy were a soft black color and fluttered in the gentle breeze that entered through the elegant window the trio had just climbed in from.

Draco Malfoy was lying in the middle of his bed with only his boxers. They were black with golden snitches flying around here and there. Hermione fought hard to stiffle her laughter.

"Okay, so how do we start?" asked Ron.

"Um, I guess we could drag him over to the tub..."

Ron grabbed Draco by his ankles and proceeded to drag him off the bed and towards the bathroom, pretending not to notice when Draco's head hit the carpet with a thud.

"God, I _really_ hope he hasn't made any "plans" with any girls tonight, but we have to have our wands ready to perform a stunning spell if any girls do show up here," said Hermione, shaking her head and reaching for her wand.

Ron had finished dragging Draco into the bathroom and had set over the edge of the bathtub so that his upper body was hanging into the tub while the rest was on the other side. Hermione quickly drew the small box of hair dye out of her robes and threw it to Ron who caught it expertly by his left hand.

"Alright," Hermione said sinisterly with an wicked twist in her lips. "Let's get started."

"Here, I'll turn the water on," said Harry as he reached for the knob. "Now what do we do?"

"Um..." Hermione had opened the box and was reading the instructions. "We don't need the water just yet. Turn it off for now. Ron, could you pour the contents of that small bottle into the big bottle?"

"Okay," Ron said, grabbing the small bottle and pouring the glutinous contents into the larger bottle. "Isn't this supposed to be red?"

"Ron, you have to shake it," said Hermione in a know-it-all manner, glancing down at the instructions again. He did so and a minute later the contents in the bottle became a flaming red color. "Um...now it says to work it into his hair..."

"So do I just pour it on his hair?" Ron asked with a puzzled expression. None of them had ever dyed their hair before.

"I suppose," said Hermione, handing gloves to each of the boys. "You have to make sure that it covers all his hair."

All three of them knelt down by the edge of the bathtub and began working the red hair dye into Draco Malfoy's hair.

"I'm so glad he doesn't have much hair," said Hermione ten minutes later when they had finished.

"I hope the color stays..." said Ron.

"It will," Hermione reassured him. "Malfoy's got such light hair, it'll stay for sure. Just too bad that this dye isn't permanent. My cousin doesn't like to stick to one hair color for a long period of time."

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked, standing up from the tub.

"We have to wait about half an hour, I think, before it can be washed off," Hermione said, taking the instructions back into her hands.

Half an hour passed quickly and the trio washed off the excess dye in Draco's now very red hair. After drying it with a towel, they carried the unconscious boy back to his original place in the bed and hastily cleaned up the bathroom. After all, they couldn't leave any incriminating evidence behind. They wouldn't allow the deed to be traced back to them. 

Their spirits at an all time high, the trio climbed back out the window and returned to their own rooms, happily envisioning the look of horror Malfoy would have the next morning.

~*~

It was a beautiful morning the next day. The sun was shining radiantly and there were no clouds whatsoever in the clear blue of the sky. The halls were crowded as the students made their way to the first class of the day. For Hermione, it was Advanced Muggle Studies, which none of her friends took.

Too bad, she thought, that Draco wasn't going to be in this class. She couldn't sleep a wink the night before, imagining what Draco would look like walking around the castle with red hair.

Hearing some giggles and hurried whispers, Hermione glanced around her and caught a glimpse of a tall redhead a few paces ahead whose back was turned away from her. She knew exactly who it was. A plan was formulating in her head as she hurried up to the figure.

"Ron!" she yelled with a tone dripping with honey and surprised delight. "Ron! Wait up!"

She reached the redhead and stepped in front of him, taking the whole scene in. Her eyes met the deadly glare of Draco Malfoy and she feigned a look of absolute surprise.

"Oh! Oops! Wrong person," she said with a sickening smile on her face, hoping that she did sound very surprised. "It must have been the hair," she said innocently, pointing to his copper head, taunting him.

By now, she had realized that Malfoy not longer held the look of murder in his face but stared at her with almost surprise. She couldn't comprehend the strange way he was staring at her and it made her feel uncomfortable. She had expected him to blow up in her face or made some snide remark, but he didn't. All he did was to keep staring at her in a confused and surprised sort of way.

She had no idea what was going on and she soon became rather confused too. So flashing him another brilliant smile, she brushed past him and continued on her way to class.

~*~

"I'm sure you've all studied chapter thirty-four, am I correct?" came the strict voice of Professor McGonagall.

Her question was answered by twenty nods.

"Then I'm sure you'll all be able to turn the crickets on your desks to birds," she said, stepping easily around the front of the classroom. "It takes some skill so I'm sure none of you will be able to do it on the first try. But eventually, I'm sure all of you will be able to perform it."

The class was silent, waiting for further instructions.

She waved her hand at them. "You may begin." Without another word, she returned to her desk and sat down, leafing through a few pieces of parchment.

Hermione sat back and watched as the whole class failed to be able to change the cricket into anything that even resembled a bird. Even Harry, who was easily the smartest wizard in the year didn't succeed in doing anything to the cricket. This brought another bout of anger upon her. Harry _should_ have been Head Boy. Everyone knew it, but no one talked about it. He had been gypped out of that position by the slimy ferret.

Hermione drew her wand out of the pocket of her robes and angrily whispered the charm to transform the cricket into a bird. Nothing happened.

She had been so sure she could do it. She had read the chapter at least ten times! This was a sure blow to her confidence, and she scowled. So what if the chapter _did_ say that the spell was extremely difficult and no one in history had been able to get it on their first try, but she was Hermione Granger! Hermione Granger could do anything! At least that's what she had always thought.

She tried the spell again. And again, nothing happened. Her patience began to wear thin and she glanced around the room, seeing if anyone else had any luck. Nope. By now, people weren't whispering the spell anymore, they were yelling it at the top of their lungs and it still did nothing.

Hermione, in her frustration, threw her wand down on the desk and glared at the cricket sitting on her desk. It was chirping loudly and only added to her frustration. God, anytime soon she'd get a migraine.

"Oh shut up and turn into a bird!" she said with great annoyance.

And it did.

Hermione gasped in horror as the cricket became a hideous yellow bird in the blink of an eye. The brought the memory of the other time when she was able to open the portrait by simply telling it to open. She had thought nothing of it at the time, dismissing it as a mere coincidence, but now this! She glanced around nervously, hoping that nobody had seen her.

Everyone was so busy with their own work that they had not noticed anything she had done. Suddenly she caught two silver eyes staring at her from the other side of the room. The gaze made her very uncomfortable. Had he seen? Had he seen what she had done? He was staring at her the same way he had stared at her earlier that day. It wasn't an angry stare, but more like he was confused or puzzled. She couldn't make sense of it so she decided that she'd stop trying to.

"I see that Miss Granger has been able to successfully turn her cricket into a bird. Congratulations, Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall had risen from her seat and was making her way quickly to Hermione's desk.

"Would you like to tell us how you accomplished this, Miss Granger? Please stand up and tell us!" The professor beamed down at her.

Hermione gulped and rose uneasily from her seat. For some reason she turned her gaze to the other side of the room and met Draco Malfoy's stare. It almost gave her a sense of security, of comfort. She knew she was definitely going out of her mind.

"I don't know," she said softly, as her eyes sunk into a deep invisible connection with Draco's silver ones. "I don't know."

~*~

Professor Binns' history course, everyone agreed, was the most pointless class in Hogwarts. Many did not even take his class seriously, but used it as naptime. Somehow, though, today something was different.

Professor Binns was actually cheerful today, which caught the attention of every student his class.

"Sit down, everyone," he said without his usual droning tone." We're going to start a new unit today."

"Every year the seventh years write an essay on former alumnus of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In this hat here," he said holding a large black hat in the air," are the names of students who have graduated exactly twenty years ago. Exactly twenty years ago, these students were in your places as seventh years. It's Hogwarts tradition for each student to write a very long and well developed essay about one of the seventh years from twenty years ago."

Neville Longbottom raised his hand to speak. "Do we get to work on it with a partner? Or alone?" Hermione could tell that Neville didn't want to work alone - he couldn't do anything right by himself.

"Alone," answered Professor Binns. "It's a single person project and everyone must turn in a report on a different person."

"When is it due and how long must it be?" Hermione asked, ready to scribble down the details of the assignment.

"This project will be done out of class time because during class we'll still be learning history and such. There will be no set time in class to do this project so you must accomplish it in your own spare time. Therefore, it won't be due until Winter Holidays. As for the length, I usually ask my students to write at least ten feet."

Groans erupted throughout the classroom.

"I think my parents were in that year," Harry whispered excitedly to Hermione and then raised his hand. The professor called on him.

"Can we pick who we'd like to do the report on or will they be assigned?"

"Ah," said the professor, smiling now. "That is what the hat is for. When I call your names up, you will put your hand in the hat. There is one name on each small piece of parchment in the hat. You need only to put your hand into the hat and wait until a piece of parchment flies into your hand."

There was silence in the room because no one could understand what exactly what he was getting at.

He cleared his throat and spoke again, slower this time. "The name of the person on parchment will pick one of you. It is the name that picks the person."

Without further ado, he began to call each person up to the front of the room by rows. Harry, to no one's surprise, got his father's name, James Potter. He was excited and happy as he sat down - he had so many wonderful things he could write about his father. Ron's parents weren't in that year, so he got Lily Evans. It was almost like the people on the pieces of parchment chose the student. Ron had gotten Lily because somehow, the name just knew that he was Harry's friend.

When it was Hermione's turn to get a name, she walked up to the hat wondering what name she could possibly get. Her parents were muggles so they didn't come to Hogwarts and she didn't know any other people besides James and Lily and they were already taken.

She cautiously put her hand into the hat and a second later, a piece of parchment hit her hand almost as if it was a piece of metal and her hand was a magnet. She kept the parchment in her fist and didn't open it until she returned to her desk.

"Who do you have?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione opened her hand and unfolded the yellow piece of parchment. She started down at the name.

_Aurora Belle Riviera_

What kind of name was that? It sounded like some stuck up high-society name to Hermione. Even Pansy Parkinson sounded a bit more modest than that.

"Wow, what a name," Ron said, looking over her shoulder at the parchment.

"Tell me about it," Hermione said with a groan. 

"Aurora Belle Riviera," Harry read off her parchment. "Who is she?"

"I don't know! I've never even heard of her!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I don't think I want to know about someone with a name like hers!"

"Well, the name picked you."

"I was one of the last ones to be called up - it probably had no choice but to pick me! Why do you guys get people that you actually know? It's completely unjust!"

Hermione looked down at the parchment again, taking the name in with a sickening feeling in her stomach. This assignment would definitely be a challenge for her.

~*~

"I feel sick," Hermione announced at the Gryffindor table as they settled down for dinner in the Great Hall.

"What's wrong?" asked Ron as he grabbed a bowl of soup.

"I don't know," she said uncertainly and then turned to face them. "Do you think I look really weird today or something? Do I look funny?"

"You always look funny," Harry said, sending her a merry smile.

"Shut up, Harry." Hermione hit his shoulder playfully.

"Actually, I'll tell you who looks really funny - Malfoy," said Harry.

Ron shook his head attempting to look sad. "I guess red just wasn't his color."

"Everybody's been talking about it - just not to his face," Harry said. "The Slytherins pretend that they don't see it."

"It seems like he's taking it quite well."

"Yeah," said Hermione. Wouldn't Malfoy retaliate? He hadn't said a thing to her all day long when she'd been expecting to be insulted and beaten up to the edge of death! "It's strange how well he's taking it. Everything's been strange today..." her voice drifted off.

"Like what?"

"Okay, this whole day, Draco Malfoy has been staring at me non-stop! It's really unnerving! So that's why I thought maybe I looked funny or something."

"Maybe he's discovered his hidden feelings for you," Ron said trying to sound romantic, and covering his laughs.

"Don't even go there!" Hermione shook her head with an air of annoyance at her friend and took a bite of the corn. "I'm being completely serious. It's really scaring me."

Suddenly, Hermione felt like she was being watched and quickly lifted her eyes to see two silver orbs staring at her from the Slytherin table. The moment that her gaze met his, he turned his eyes away, as if he didn't want anyone to catch him staring at her.

"From the way that he looks at me, I think that maybe he's got something awful planned for me." A sigh escaped from her lips. "I don't know what it is."

"Hermione, really, it's nothing. You're just being paranoid."

"No," she said, more persistent this time. "It's deeper than that. I get this feeling - I've had this feeling since I woke up this morning."

"What feeling?"

"I can't explain it," she said, her voice melancholy. "It's like something is going to come out. I can't describe it. It's just like a feeling - like a premonition that something is going to happen."

The boys were silent as they heard the graveness of her tone.

"Like somehow everything's changed and nothing will ever be the same again."

~*~

Her room was dark, the only source of light being the soft rays of the moonlight, but she was too exhausted to turn the lights on. The events of the day had been too confusing for her and they had worn her down completely.

Hermione decided that she would just splash some water on her face and then climb into bed for a good night's sleep. Her eyes half open, she entered the grand bathroom in her dormitory and turned on the faucet. The cold water on her face was extremely refreshing and rejuvenated her.

She stood awhile in the dark bathroom, splashing the cold water onto her face. It was a nice, crisp, clean feeling and she loved it. Determined not to waste any more time and to get to bed as soon as possible, she turned off the faucet and turned to leave the bathroom.

However, something caught her eye as she turned. In curiosity, or perhaps fright, she spun back around again and gazed directly into the mirror. A gasp - her gasp - filled the silence in the room as she saw the reflection in the mirror.

Two golden eyes were staring back at her.

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Yeah, so this chapter was completely pointless and yeah I know you're all wondering what the golden eyes are at the end of the chapter and why the hell Draco is staring at her. I guess you'll find out either in the next chapter or the one after that or something.

Anyhow, review! I love reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

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A/N: This is the fourth chapter and in this one, some of the plot is starting to come out even thought it may seem really weird.

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Thanks to my reviewers: Mistress Moony, tainted black, 'div, Felicity, Aniron Sauron Greenleaf-Took, Crystalline Lily, ..., mary, shadowcat, julie 

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Four

She awoke that morning hoping desperately that what she had seen the night before was only a dream. Just a dream, and nothing more.

She threw off the covers and swung her legs off of the bed, her feet landing softly on the rich carpet. Taking a deep breath, she eased herself off of the bed and slowly made her way to the bathroom with her fingers crossed.

Stepping lightly onto the cold marble floor, she stopped when she reached the mirror and then turned so that her front faced it, with her head ducked so that she wouldn't see the reflection just yet. Taking a few deep breaths to calm and reassure herself, she finally convinced herself that she was ready. With determination, she lifted her head and stared deep into the mirror.

Her heart sunk - every comforting thought that had come through her mind was gone now, just like that. All of her hope deserted her as she stared at the reflection in the mirror.

Golden eyes.

Two gleaming golden eyes staring back at her where her chocolate brown ones should have been. She didn't want to admit it, but they scared her. They scared her out of her wits.

Hermione leaned forward closer to the large mirror and examined her features closer. Her eyes weren't brown. They weren't brown anymore. She had to force her mind to accept this. They were a beautiful shade of gold now and it gave her a sense of mystery.

For the whole night, she had been trying to convince herself that what she saw the night before was just a pigment of her imagination. That she was too tired to see correctly. But now she knew that what she saw was the truth.

No one could have done this to her. No one had the ability to change a person's eye color. Eye color was the hardest feature to alter in the wizarding world and it required much skill. So she quickly ruled out the possibly that Malfoy or one of his fellow Slytherins could have done it.

In the wizarding world, a person's eye color was almost like their identification. Every person had a different shade although it may look just like someone else's. So Hermione, at this moment, felt like she had lost her identity. Who was she?

She was Hermione Granger - the daughter of two of the greatest dentists in all of England. The best friend of Ron Weasley and the ever so famous Harry Potter. The smartest witch in Hogwarts for a century.

But all of a sudden, nothing made sense anymore. It was as if she had been thrown into space - everything was dark and hauntingly complicated.

Why were her eyes golden? She wanted to know, but yet she didn't. She wanted to find out, but a part of her was afraid to. Afraid to let everything out - everything that was hidden deep within the confines of her soul. Afraid of something she didn't know that was already there. Afraid to ask the question. Because somewhere in her soul, she already knew the answer.

~*~

Hermione entered the Great Hall cautiously, holding a book to her face, pretending she was reading it. Under normal circumstances, she _would_ have been reading it, but in such conditions that she was in now, she couldn't. The book was actually there for another, completely different reason. She was using it to shield her face - so that nobody would be able to see the change in her eyes.

What would Ron and Harry think? They'd probably make fun of her and then the whole school would know and then...

She didn't even want to think about it. All she wanted to do at the moment was to sneak unnoticed into the Great Hall, grab a banana or something sort of fruit, and leave before anyone could notice she was there.

She stepped gingerly toward the Gryffindor table and she almost had a grip on the grapefruit before she felt a hand settle on her shoulder.

"'Morning, Hermione!" She realized with a sickening feeling in her stomach that this was no other than her friend Harry Potter.

Readjusting the book so that it completely covered her whole face she said, "Hi, Harry!"

"Come, sit down with us," came the voice of Ron Weasley, whom she couldn't see right now because the book was blocking her vision.

With her book still over her face, Harry led her to where he and Ron were sitting. Hermione couldn't do anything but to take a seat.

"Honesty, can you go one day without reading a book?" asked Ron, chewing on something he was eating.

"It-it's really a very interesting book," Hermione answered, her voice a bit too high-pitched and shaky.

"Here, I'll get rid of it for you." Harry's hand folded around the edges of the book and attempted to remove it from Hermione's tight grip.

"No!" she said with fright in her voice, but then tried to cover it up. "It's a wonderful book. I just can't stop reading it."

"Hermione," said Harry, eyeing her, "you're holding it up-side down."

She jumped about a foot in the air. "Well, um..."

"Please, don't tell me you've invented a new challenge for yourself - to read a book up-side down," Ron said sarcastically between bites of toast.

"Is there something on your face that you don't want us to see?"

"No!" she said instinctively, a bit too loud, and then, "I mean, well, no."

"Hermione, have you got a pimple? Don't make such a fuss out of it, I've got a bunch of pimples! I'm sure you look fine," Ron reassured her.

"No, no, and no!"

Finally Harry grabbed the book with both of his hands - seven years of Quidditch did wonders to his strength - and was able to tear it from her grasp. Before she could close her eyes, they had both taken a very long and good look at her face.

"If you make fun of me, I will kill you!" she hissed, crossing her arms.

Harry shook his head with confusion. "What's there to make fun of?"

"Oh shut up! You know what I'm talking about."

"Uh, no we don't," Ron said, taking Harry's side, much to Hermione's disapproval.

"Look at me!" Hermione opened her eyes wide and put her face about five inches from her friends' face. "Don't you see it?"

They were silent, staring at her as if she belonged in a mental institution. "See what?"

Heaving a great sigh, Hermione decided to change her method of approach. "Do you see anything different with my eyes?"

The two boys stared at her eyes. "No."

Silence.

"Nothing?"

They shook their heads.

"Parvati," she said and patted the shoulder of her friend who was deep in conversation with Seamus. "Do you have a mirror?"

Parvati, who was still listening to Seamus as he spoke, reached into the pocket of her robes and retrieved a small compact mirror without asking any questions.

"Thanks," said Hermione as she took the mirror. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and sure enough, her eyes were still a bright golden color.

"Are you sure you don't see anything?"

The boys, who were rather tongue-tied and didn't know what to say, nodded. It was then that Hermione realized that maybe they _couldn't_ see. Maybe she was the only one who could see it - see the change in her eyes. There was no point bothering them anymore - her secret was safe. After all, if no one could see the change, then what was there to worry about?

"Alright," Hermione said, flashing a smile at them. "Forget everything I said. Let's have breakfast - I'm starved."

~*~

"Nothing!" Hermione announced loudly that evening, slamming a heavy book down onto the table. She, Harry, and Ron were sitting at a round table on the far left of the library. Piles of books were strewn all over the tabletop - some opened, some closed.

"No luck?"

Hermione shook her head with noticeable irritation. "There's nothing about her! Her name hasn't even been _mentioned_ in any of these books."

"Too bad for you," said Ron as he glanced down at one of his books and scribbled down some notes. "There's loads of information about Lily."

"And my dad," Harry added, patting the mountain of books that sat near him.

"Why do I always have to be the unfortunate one? Three hours in the library and still all I know is her name!" Hermione frowned and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"I heard Dean was going to ask Dumbledore if he could take a day off school to interview his person - maybe you could do the same," Ron suggested.

"Maybe," said Hermione, "but I don't know anything about her at the moment. How am I supposed to track her down?"

"Here," Harry said as he handed her a large, worn book. "Take this. You'll find her in here for sure."

Hermione set the book down on the table, as it was too heavy for her to be able to support in her arms, and flipped it open. "Book of Hogwarts Alumnus? Why didn't I think of this? Thanks, Harry."

The three continued their research as Hermione began to silently flip through the pages of the book. She noticed that there were about three pages dedicated to each student, filled with all their information and such. The Head Boy and Girl, however, each had ten pages. After about fifteen minutes of quick flipping - she closed the book again and sighed.

"She's not in here."

"Of course she is, Hermione. She has to be," Harry said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"She's not! I've looked through all of the Gryffindor House almunus! She's not there!"

Ron looked up from his notes. "Maybe she wasn't a Gryffindor. Try one of the other houses."

Hermione grumbled and reached for the large velvet book again. This time, she tried the Ravenclaw House, and, still finding nothing, she checked the Hufflepuff House. When nothing turned up in both those houses, she knew that the answer could only be found in one other house. Slytherin.

Groaning, she flipped to the right year in the book and turned to the Slytherin section. It was arranged in alphabetical order and she gingerly flipped the pages until she saw the name. Aurora Belle Riviera.

Hermione was able to read about two pages of the information printed in the book before Harry interrupted.

"I see you've found her."

"Yes," Hermione said, not lifting her eyes from the page.

"So, who exactly was she?"

"She was a Slytherin." She looked up and saw Harry's shock and looked over to see Ron with the exact same expression. "Yeah."

"She was pretty smart too, I'm guessing, from the fact that she was a prefect for three years," she added.

"Apparently not as smart as Lily," Ron said with arrogance. "_She_ was the Head Girl."

Hermione ignored him - she wouldn't talk to him if he was going to act superior to her. "Poor girl. It says that her parents died when she was very young, leaving her a large fortune. I suppose they were wealthy."

"With a name like that, how could you not be?"

"Oh shut up, Ron." He was beginning to irritate her. "Actually I was thinking that Dean's idea is great. Maybe I'll do something like that. She sounds like an interesting person to meet. I hope she's still alive."

At the look on Harry face, Hermione wished she could take that last bit she said back. "Sorry, Harry. I'm sure they're in a better place."

"It's all right," Harry replied, shrugging it off.

Ron leaned over her shoulder to see the book. "Haven't they got any pictures of her?"

"I suppose," Hermione said. "They're probably in the later pages."

She flipped a page, and when she realized that it was all text again, she flipped another. When her eyes landed on the photograph on the next page, she couldn't help but stare at it.

"Wow! Will you look at her!" came Ron's shocked voice.

The photograph looked like it was taken near the spiral staircase near the Great Hall. The girl standing in it had gorgeous dark tresses that spiraled down her back and the most alluring blue eyes Hermione had ever seen in her life. Her lips were full and a luscious red color. However, her lips were not curled in a smile or anything of the sort. She was just looking forward peacefully - not toward the camera - but toward some kind of infinity or dream. She didn't need to smile anyway - her dancing eyes smiled for her. 

One hand was lying gently on the rail of the staircase, showing off her perfectly manicured nails. Her cheekbones, her nose, her eyebrows, her perfectly sculpted face, and her graceful poise reminded Hermione of one of those beautiful Greek goddesses that she had only seen in drawings.

But her beauty was not the only thing that captivated Hermione. The girl, Aurora, held herself with an air of authority. And there was something about her that Hermione just couldn't name that she admired greatly. Something surrounded her - something that Hermione couldn't find the words to describe. Something that made her stand out above everything and everyone else, something so powerful that Hermione couldn't name.

"She's got such a powerful aura around her," Harry said, letting his eyes sink into the photograph.

"Like a magnetic force of some kind," Ron added. "Wow."

Hermione finally snapped out of it and back into reality and vowed to not ever look at the picture again. "Oh you two, grow up! So what if she's beautiful?"

The boys were too busy staring the photograph to pay any attention to Hermione and it wasn't until she slammed the book closed that they fell out of their daze.

"Done staring?"

They looked completely embarrassed - Ron's face was almost the same shade as his hair, and Hermione had never seen Harry ever blush so red.

"So what exactly was wrong with you this morning?" Ron asked, hoping to change the subject.

Damn. He just had to remind her. This was going into something that she didn't want to walk about. "Nothing."

"What do you mean by 'nothing'? You were acting all hyped up about it."

"Oh, it was just really silly," Hermione said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "It's not worth talking about."

Hermione didn't want to tell them - at least not until she had figured it out for herself. And how would she figure it out anyway? How did a person's eye color just change in the period of one day? These were questions she needed to be answered - questions that had been nagging her for the whole day. She wanted to find out, she needed to find out. And it was at that moment that a brilliant idea popped into her mind.

"Harry," she said, "could I borrow your invisibility cloak?"

"What for?" he asked, curious.

She pouted. "Please? It's really important to me. Please?"

"I'll let you use it if you tell me what you're using it for," he said. "After all, Dumbledore did say for me to use it well." He sent her a wry smile.

"I really need it," she said, her patience already beginning to vanish. "I'll tell you after I use it. I promise. Please?"

"No," he said, teasing her, just to get a reaction out of Hermione.

"Honesty, you two are like brother and sister," Ron said, after hearing enough of their childish bickering.

"Really?" Harry laughed warm-heartedly. "I'm afraid she doesn't look a thing like me."

"And thank God for that!" Hermione rolled her eyes with a grin on her face.

"Is that an insult?"

"You bet it is." Hermione's eyes twinkled merrily.

"Well, you're going to have to do better than that!" Harry said as he tackled her and she burst into a fit of giggles. Before he could do anything about it, she had grabbed his glasses off his face.

"Give it back, 'ermione," he said, still laughing.

She held the glasses out in front of her. "Only if you let me borrow your invisibility cloak!"

In the end, after about another half an hour of bickering, Harry finally agreed - tired of their quarrel.

"Alright, fine, come up with me to my room and I'll fetch it for you," he said, grabbing a few books that were on the table.

Hermione nodded and the three of them filed out of the library. It was after they were outside the doors that she realized that she had left a book on the table and she had to run in quickly to retrieve it.

She slid it off the table and into her hand and turned to leave when she caught two eyes staring at her from behind the bookshelves. They were a silver-gray color and she immediately knew whom they belonged to.

Hermione didn't like the feeling it gave her - she felt constantly watched and it made a chill go down her back. Why the hell did he keep staring at her? It only added to her list of troubles. God, she wished that she could just rid herself of every burden that she had. She was way too stressed.

Ignoring his stare, she turned away and hurried out of the library as quickly as her legs could carry her to join up with Harry and Ron. She couldn't just go up to him and ask what his problem was. She had more important things to do tonight. Much more important.

~*~

Hermione didn't realize how dark the halls of Hogwarts could be at night until now. It was cold, too. Very cold. If she had realized how chilly it would be, she would have worn something other than her pajamas - but now it was too late to turn back. With the invisibility cloak draped over her and a lamp in her hand, she tiptoed her way to the Hogwarts library.

The nice, soft, flannel pajamas she had didn't do a thing to keep her body warm. Her feet were bare, which only added to the cold. She wished that she could turn back, but too many reasons kept her from it.

Slowly, she opened the door of the library, hoping that it wouldn't creak. Then she peeked inside just to make sure there was no one in the room. After seeing that the coast was clear, she hurried in and closed the door behind her.

Setting the lamp on a table near the shelves, she hastily made her way to the shelves and began search through them for any book title that made any hint of information about eye colors.

She pulled about ten books off the shelf before she returned to the table and sat down with them. Then she skimmed through each and every one of them, hoping that they'd provide the answers to all of her questions. But she had absolutely no luck. Nothing in any of the books she pulled made any reference to eye colors. She kept pulling off more books, but still couldn't find anything. After spending nearly two hours going through the shelves, she realized that she wouldn't find anything there.

So Hermione tackled a new place. The Restricted Section. It was just way to tempting for her to resist.

And besides, nobody was there. Nobody could stop her. And it wasn't like this was her first time there, either. She had been in the Restricted Section many times before without permission, although usually accompanied by Ron, Harry, or both. She felt quite alone this time, being by herself and all.

It was a large, gated area that took up about a fourth of the area of the whole library. Whispering a simple unlocking charm, the gate swung open and she stepped in, taking in the sight. The shelves and shelves of books looked beautiful in the dim light of the lamp.

Without wasting another minute, she began to search through the books again, as she had done earlier, removing some of the ones she thought might help her. She brought them back to her desk and scanned them quickly for anything that might help her. This time, she still found nothing.

Hermione returned the books to the shelf and began to search again, restlessly. She just had to find out the answer. She just had to find out why. Two books were already in her arms and she was in the process of pulling out another when - 

"You won't find anything here."

The voice startled her so much that she jumped about a foot into the air. At first, she thought perhaps it was a ghost or worse, Argus Filch, but then realized that the voice was too young to be either of those possibilities.

With a loud gasp, she spun around and faced the intruder. The first thing that she saw was the pair of silver eyes staring at her from the dark. Her sudden fear evaporated and annoyance took its place.

"You won't find anything here," he repeated, louder this time and with an unmistakable hint of arrogance in his voice.

She wanted to hit him. "What do you know, anyhow?" She wasn't going to try to be polite.

"A lot more than you," he said, stepping into the light. He still had his robes on, and his hands were in the pockets of his black slacks.

God, she was ready to kill him. "Nice hair, by the way. Love the color." She flashed him a big smile, showing off her brilliant white teeth.

She could tell he was very annoyed with that and couldn't find anything to say back to her but a simple, "Shut up, Granger."

Even in the dim light of the lamp, she could tell that the red color was coming off. The instructions had said that it would come off in about thirty shampoos and she was pretty sure Draco spent a fair amount of time washing his hair these days.

Hermione leaned back against the bookshelf and a frown replaced her smile. "Are you stalking me?"

"Stalking _you?_" he said with a light chuckle, as if that was the preposterous thing in the world. "You must be out of your mind."

"Then why is it that you stare at me?" she pressed, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Luckily for her, there was no answer.

She raised one of her eyebrows. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

His loud laugh erupted through the room and Hermione scowled. Was she really that ugly? Did Harry and Ron think she was ugly too? Did _everyone_ think she was ugly?

"Granger, I'd rather die than be caught in bed with you," he said through his laughter. "Imagine how that would tarnish my reputation."

"Then stop following me around," she said angrily. "Stop staring at me at the time. It annoys the hell out of me."

"Isn't that the point?"

She scoffed. "You know what? You're just another rich, arrogant, little..." she couldn't finish her sentence - she couldn't find a word that suitably described him.

"Tsk, tsk. Why do you say that?" he said edging closer to her.

"Oh, okay, let me see," she said sarcastically. "So first you put tar in my toothpaste."

"Hey, I didn't tell you to brush with that stuff. You did it of your own accord."

She ignored him. "So then..." she remembered the toilet incident and blushed a deep crimson. She didn't want to talk about it. "Okay, so I won't talk about that one. And then you burn all my books, make me fail my Potions exam, and as if that's not enough, you almost kill me by blowing up a cauldron in my face! So, of course, that just doesn't give me reason enough to hate you!"

He only shrugged, as if it were nothing at all to him. "Not less than what you deserved."

Hermione stared angrily at him. "What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"For starters, you _slapped_ me. _Nobody_ slaps me, Granger." He looked like a seriously spoiled little brat. "And then you pour milk over my head _in front of the whole god damn school!_ Do you know what a blow to my reputation that was? And look at my hair now. Don't deny that you did it. Because I know you did it."

"It looks wonderful," she said, smiling innocently.

"_Shut up, Granger_," he snapped.

But Hermione wasn't done. There were other debts that needed to be paid. "And then there's poor Lavender. How could you do that to her? Are you even human?"

He waved his hand in the air, as if he was dismissing her words. "God, that girl was so dense. She was so easy it took all the fun out of it."

She stared incredulously at him. "How can you say that? What kind of a person are you?"

He shrugged, completely carefree. "Hey, she was willing. It's not like I made her do anything."

"You bastard! That's what you think, isn't it? Can you possibly imagine how much hurt you've caused her?" she spat.

"She'll get over it," he said, flashing her a charming smile that could have made any girl's legs go weak. "All of them do."

"Now I really see what you are. You just use them for your own fun. You're a complete sadist. You have no feelings at all. You take happiness in others' sorrow!" she yelled. "You're the kind of guy in personality tests who represents the group that _everyone hates!_"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Granger," he said, his smile wavering.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about. All you think about is getting a different girl to screw every night - that's all you ever care about. And you get away with everything just because your name is Draco Malfoy! You haven't cared a thing for anyone besides yourself in your whole life!" Hermione raised a hand to strike him.

Before her blow could hit, he grabbed her wrist tightly in his hand. "You don't know anything, Granger. You don't know shit about me."

She winced in pain at the firm hold he had on her wrist and couldn't do anything but breathe heavily, trying to get enough oxygen.

"You don't understand. My whole life has been decided for me already. Do you know what's it's like to have your whole life already blueprinted out for you? This is the only time in my life that I will be anywhere close to being happy - that I will be able to make my own decision and do whatever the hell I want," he said fiercely. "I want to have some fun while it lasts. You weren't born in a Slytherin family, you know what it feels like to be completely caged."

"You're hurting me," Hermione said, trying to tear her wrist out of his grasp. When he realized how tightly he had been holding onto her, he let go and she massaged her wrist tenderly.

"When I am of age, my father will decide who I marry - who the woman I will share the rest of my life will be. Mind you, it's probably already been decided long ago. I'll marry someone who'll make the family wealthier. And then it won't be about what I want anymore - or who I want to be with. It'll just be all about which family my father can benefit the most from politically and strategically. That's why I do what I do - because I want to have some fun now before my whole life gets thrown away."

Hermione let her gaze sink slowly into his eyes. "But that doesn't mean you have to hurt everybody along the way," she said quietly.

She turned back to the shelves of books, determined to ignore him. Maybe he'd leave her alone after he saw that she wasn't paying any attention to him.

"I already said - You won't find anything here," his voice was soft.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "What would you know?"

"I know enough to know that you wouldn't find anything of that sort here in the Hogwarts library."

"You don't even know what you're talking about. You don't know what I'm looking for," she said, turning back to the books.

"That's where you're wrong." He stepped up behind her and was so close to her now that she could feel his breath on her neck.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

There was a hesitant pause.

"I know they don't see it." It sounded almost seductive.

She gulped. "See what?"

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around slowly. Her head was facing the ground and he cupped his hand around her chin and raised her face.

He stared deeply into her eyes. "That's why I've been staring - I wanted to get a closer look. To make sure I wasn't going insane. And I know they don't notice - Potter and Weasley, I mean. And I don't think anyone does either."

Breathe, she instructed herself. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She desperately wanted to change the subject. "How would you know?"

There was a pause in which he averted his eyes. 

"Because I can see it."

Another pause.

"See what?" she asked, gulping.

Silence.

"Your eyes."

Silence again.

"How?" she asked, forcefully, with mixed emotions, "When even my closest friends can't?"

He turned his head back to her and looked her straight in the eye.

"I don't know," he said softly, his voice like the breeze. "I don't know."

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Um...yeah. End of chapter four. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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A/N: School just started back up again (Spring Break was way too short!). So I'll probably have to write this in between all my homework, which means it will probably take longer for chapters to come out.

Also, I would like to answer some questions that you may have about this story. Everything I have mentioned so far is very important in the plot - all the little details and such. I'm afraid that when I get to the real plot and mention stuff that I talked about in the early chapters and you'll all be like "huh?" And yes, the title does have something to do with the plot - it's actually what the whole story is based on (I doubt you understood that), but the significance of the title won't be revealed until towards the middle of the story.

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Thanks to my reviewers: Special One (who really isn't special, but more like _sped_cial), Starlit Raven, 'div, Elfmoon87, Julie, Ginnyrules890, mdemanatee, tainted black, sqt pepper, Slim-Shady's-Modeling-Baby, Miforever, December1o04, hermioneG89, RoBi darkO cOrEnLio RoSa, aku-neko, Nikki, Riona, Shads, lixa, Li-chan, La Lucida Luna, BlueBird, Fashiondiva (imagine something like an "0" sitting at the top of a "T" right where the three points meet - I don't know any other way to describe it without giving something away...and it sits on her wrist the way that if she put her wrist in front of her without twisting it in any way, the "T" would be right-side up), Dragonfires, Immortal Sky, and anyone I missed (although I hope I didn't...).

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Five

Hermione supported her chin in her hand as she stared blankly at the board in front of her on which Professor Allegra had just drawn a few bars of music notes. She blinked her eyes tiredly a few times and felt the sudden urge to yawn. Shifting her hand over to cover her mouth, she concealed the yawn.

Her eyes began to drift around the room again and the writing on the chalkboard became extremely fuzzy in her sight. She fought hard to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids were just so damn heavy. She couldn't keep them open.

It wasn't until her head hit the wooden desk five minutes later that she was awakened from her slumber. She couldn't believe that she had dozed off - it was so unlike her normal self. But then again, she thought sadly to herself, she wasn't herself anymore. The funny thing was, she didn't even know why. She still hadn't been able to figure it out yet and she didn't know if she ever would.

The fact that Draco Malfoy, her sworn enemy since the beginning of time, was also the only person in the world who could see the change in her didn't serve to help things at all. She was sure it was a coincidence - that was all she would let herself believe. To her, there was no - there could be no - other reason behind it.

She sighed inwardly and shut her eyes again, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She rested her chin on her hand again, and it wasn't long before the felt the signs of sleep attacking her again.

Why exactly she had decided to take Music Skills as a course was completely beyond her. It was such a boring and pointless class - a complete waste of time that she could have used as extra studying time or taking some other useful and meaning course. As far as she knew, this class wouldn't help her in her future career. After all, her goal was to become the Minister of Magic, and that job would not require any knowledge of music. However, she had already taken all of the courses Hogwarts had to offer and this was the only class that she had never touched. In the end, she signed up for it just so she'd have something to kill time with. If she had known that it would be so dull, she would have never done it.

Sure, Professor Allegra was a nice lady, but Hermione had ever felt any great passion for music in her life. She didn't play any instrument or even sing. She'd seen musical before and loved them, but she didn't think she could sing. She didn't even want to try, ever.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and resolved not to fall asleep again. Slowly, her senses tuned in to the conversation that was going on behind her somewhere to the left, on the Slytherin side of the room.

"Have you ever heard her sing? Trust me, you don't want to. She has such an awful voice!" came Blaise's hurried whisper.

A chuckle burst forth from somewhere behind her. "She has more than just some intonation problems. Professor Allegra sure has her work cut out for her!"

"I can't believe she hasn't dropped this course already, with that god-awful voice of hers!" This shriek of a voice sounded remotely like Pansy, and a few snickers erupted toward the back of the room.

Lavender her body sideways toward Hermione so that she could whisper into her friend's ear. "They're talking about me again, aren't they?"

Of course they were talking about her, and Hermione knew it.

"Maybe it's someone else," Hermione lied through her teeth, making a sympathetic face.

"It's me - I know it is!" There was a drop of sorrow in Lavender's voice.

Hermione nudged her friend in the side. "Ignore it. Pretend you don't care."

"I can't - I _do_ care!"

Lavender's whimper was cut short by Professor Allegra, who turned away from the board and began to speak to the class.

"Can I have two volunteers to sing the two lines of music I have drawn on the board?" she asked, smiling delightfully.

More than just a few hands shot up into the air, including Lavender's, to Hermione's quiet dismay. She secretly hoped that Lavender would not be picked - she would only embarrass herself in front of the whole class. She didn't have the heart to tell her friend and fellow Gryffindor that she wasn't exactly gifted in the musical area.

"Ah, Miss Parkinson, you take the first line," the professor said, pointing at the blonde girl. "And Miss Brown, you can take the second line."

Damn, Hermione thought. Now how could she save Lavender from humiliation? Out of all the students she could have picked, did Allegra just _have_ to pick Lavender? It was bad karma, Hermione decided in the end.

Hermione lifted her eyes to see Pansy smile smugly and stand up from her seat. She was surprised to see that Pansy did not seem nervous at all - she was very calm, bordering snotty, and seemed to look like she thought she could do anything. When the professor gave her the signal to start, Hermione prepared to have her eardrums bust. With such an awful shrieking speaking voice, she thought Pansy's singing voice couldn't be much better. Besides, if Pansy was really bad, then that would make Lavender sound better.

However, much to Hermione's surprise, Pansy sang the line of music with perfect clarity and pitch. She hated to admit it, but Pansy did have quite a good voice. It was light and very well supported. On top of that, her pitch and intonation were both excellent.

"Beautiful!" the professor exclaimed, clapping her hands. "That's was absolutely beautiful, Miss Parkinson! Have you had any vocal instruction?"

"Thank you, Professor," Pansy said in her all too fake high-pitched squeal. Hermione wondered how, with such an annoying speaking voice, Pansy could possibly possess such an amazing singing voice. "I've been taking voice lessons since I was six."

That must have been why, Hermione thought. The girl had been taking voice lessons for more than a decade! Of course she'd be good at singing.

Professor Allegra nodded happily at Pansy and then turned expectantly toward Lavender. "Your turn, Miss Brown."

Hermione could tell that Lavender was nervous as she stood up to sing the next bar. She felt terrible for Lavender especially since the girl was obviously going to make a fool of herself trying to outdo Pansy Parkinson. Yes, Lavender was her friend, but Hermione couldn't deny that Lavender's voice was anything but pretty. And there was no way she could sound even remotely good after such a spectacular performance by Pansy Parkinson.

The professor beckoned the trembling Lavender to start. Hermione watched with her fingers crossed as Lavender began to sing softly. Her first note cracked unpleasantly and the rest of her notes didn't sound quite so good either. Her voice was too breathy - no where near the pure clarity of Pansy's voice. A little tremor could be heard in her voice due to how nervous she was, and most definitely didn't make her sound any better. If anything, it made her voice sound only worse.

And then there was the intonation. Although Hermione had never sung in her life or taken any musical instruction at all, she was surprised at how much she knew more than others about music. Maybe she was born with some musical sense.

Hermione cringed more than just a couple of times during those five short measures, although she did try to mask it. The poor, shaking girl had sung more wrong notes than right. Four measures in, Hermione was sure that Lavender had changed keys at least three times already. By the time the girl finished, she was about four whole steps from where she should have been.

As soon as she finished, Lavender sat down and glanced toward Hermione for comfort.

"How was it?" Lavender asked in a quiet and worried whisper.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She couldn't just tell Lavender that she was terrible and should never try for a career as a singer. "It was pretty good."

Professor Allegra was at a complete loss for words. Hermione hoped that Lavender took that as a good sign. After a few awkward seconds, the professor could only mutter a small: "Thank you, Miss Brown.

As the professor took her place at her desk in the front of the classroom again, giggles burst out from the Slytherin corner.

"Honesty, she's _terrible_."

"If _I_ was such a terrible singer, I wouldn't volunteer to sing for anyone!"

"How embarrassing!"

"I sure was much better than her." This voice, Hermione recognized as Pansy.

There was another giggle. "You have no competition, Pansy. You and Brown? That's like comparing a nightingale to a crow!"

Hermione glanced over to the girl next to her to see if she had heard anything. Judging by the way Lavender's eyes were too overbright, she knew she had heard everything. She laid a hand on her friend's arm in a comforting gesture, and hoped that the whispers would die down.

"Did you hear her? She sounded like a goat!" Giggles, giggles, giggles. Hermione was sure she heard someone mimicking the way Lavender sang, with a large vibrato.

How could they be so insensitive? How could they treat her friend this way? The way they spoke of poor Lavender as if she wasn't even there. Hermione sure wasn't going to take it any longer.

"Perhaps she'd be better suited living in Switzerland - I heard there were many goats there. I'm sure she'd fit in perfectly with the family. She's - "

"_Shut up!_" Hermione snapped fiercely, spinning around in her seat, catching the attention of the whole class.

Pansy, who had been cut off, glared at the Gryffindor coldly. "Yes, Granger? Have you anything to add?"

"You have no right judge Lavender," Hermione said icily, returning the glare.

"_Honesty_, Granger, you must be deaf," Blaise said, turning her nose up and twirling her hair. "But then again, you _are_ a mudblood."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione returned, ignoring Blaise's insult. She had heard enough of it during her seven years at Hogwarts that it didn't bother her so much anymore.

"And I suppose you do?" Pansy said haughtily, raising an eyebrow. When there was no answer from Hermione, Pansy continued her assault. "Really, you shouldn't mess with things you haven't an inking about."

"I demand that you apologize to Lavender," Hermione said, still with the almost frightening cold look in her eyes.

Pansy rolled her eyes and flipped her long shiny blonde hair back. "What I said was true. Horrible tone, horrible pitch, horrible intonation."

If Pansy had been Hermione's friend or anything but a Slytherin, Hermione would have agreed with her whole-heartedly. But Pansy _was_ a Slytherin and Lavender was her friend, who was too weak to defend herself. She couldn't just sit back and let a Slytherin get the better of a Gryffindor.

"Just because your voice is mediocre doesn't mean you can make fun of other people," Hermione said with a sneer, glaring at the blonde girl.

Pansy gaped at her. "_Mediocre?_ How dare you!"

It was Hermione's turn to stick her nose in the air. "You heard me right. What's great about your singing? Anybody can sing like that."

"Alright," Pansy said, fuming, sending Hermione a nasty look. "You sing then. Let's see who's the better singer, shall we?"

Hermione instantly regretted anything that she had said to Pansy in her anger. She couldn't sing. She wouldn't sing. She had never sung a note in her live. She had never even _tried_ to sing in her life, and she didn't know if she ever wanted to. She'd always assumed that she'd be bad at it, that she'd ruin some composer's masterpiece or something.

"I...I can't," she said, feeling as if she'd already lost the argument.

Pansy crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair, and smiled smugly. "I knew you didn't have it in you, _mudblood_."

With that, Hermione flew into rage. Normally, she wouldn't have cared if someone called her that, since she was so used to it. But Pansy had made it sound so absolutely degrading that she couldn't but feel enraged.

"Fine," she said curtly. She didn't want to give Pansy the pleasure of saying that she was too scared of the challenge. "I'll do it."

"I'm listening," Pansy said, giving Hermione the cue to start.

There was no sound.

"I don't know anything to sing," Hermione said, almost happily now that she had an excuse not to sing - to not make a complete fool of herself. "Honestly, I don't."

Pansy dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Make something up."

Hermione swallowed hard, realizing there was no way she could back out now. She didn't know what to sing - she couldn't think of anything at the moment. Everything had left her and her mind was a blank slate. Just a completely blank sheet of paper. Nothing.

She hadn't ever sung in her life, therefore she really and truly didn't know what she could possibly sing. In a desperate attempt, she searched through her brain for all those musicals she had watched before. Damn, she couldn't think of any of them.

Pansy, who was sitting in her chair, wore a look of absolute impatience on her face. Hermione licked her lips and prepared to make a fool out of herself. She still didn't know what to sing, but that didn't bother her anymore. She would just sing anything that came to her at the moment. Hoping that she could just belt out the first pretty thing that came to her mind, she opened her mouth.

And then music found her. She was feeling so nervous that she didn't realize she was singing until a while after the notes began to flow from her mouth. It was so easy. It felt so...free. Why she had never tried this before stumped her. It was wonderful to just let go and let the music flow.

From far away, she could hear someone singing a beautiful melody. The music entranced her, and she became completely oblivious to her surroundings. She was in a place of dreams, a place where there were rolling hills and green forests, green meadows and blue skies. Where the world was perfect and all thoughts were happy thoughts. It was a place where all troubles were forgotten and all dreams soared. 

The music encompassed her. The melody possessed her - she could feel it rippling through the very essence of herself. Her only thought was to keep listening to the music, and to never stop. 

The voice was clear as crystal and powerful as the sea, yet gentle as the soft breeze. It was like the waves of the ocean, the roaring of a waterfall, the chirping of a brook, the ripple of a stream. The rumble of thunder, the flashes of lightening, the brightness of the sun, the elegance of the stars. It was all the beauty of nature, intertwined into one.

When finally she closed her mouth and the magic vanished, all she was left with was a room full of gaping students. All twenty eyes stared back at her. Her throat tightened - did she really sound so bad that nobody could say anything? The professor was the first to recover.

"Mozart," she said, her voice a bit breathy, "right?"

Hermione was bewildered, and shook her head absently. "I don't know."

"Why'd you settle on Mozart?" The professor said, smiling, hoping to calm's Hermione's fears.

_Was_ it Mozart? She couldn't remember anything; she had no idea what had come out of her mouth. She didn't even know any of Mozart's pieces, how could she have sung them? The professor must have been mistaken, she decided. Hermione only kept shaking her head in a daze. "I-it just sort of came to me. I don't really know how."

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. When nobody made any comment, Hermione spoke again. "I'm sorry if it was that bad." She truly meant it.

Just then, the bell rang, startling everyone in the classroom, breaking the trance. Without another word, Hermione gathered all her supplies and hurried out of the room, happy to finally be able to leave the uneasy atmosphere.

Great, now she had just made a complete fool out of herself! Next class, Lavender wouldn't be the center of gossip and harsh whispers anymore - it would be her. Her stomach tightened just thinking about it.

"Wow, Hermione! You really showed her!" Lavender said, running to catch up with her.

"Did I sound okay?" Hermione asked anxiously. Maybe she didn't do as bad as she thought.

Lavender looked puzzled. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Hermione asked, turning her head to the side to face her friend.

"Hear yourself sing!" Lavender chirped happily.

Hermione stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose. "I completely zoned out. I think my mind went off to Neverland."

"Oh," Lavender said excitedly. "You sounded so...I can't find a word to describe it! It was more than wonderful. It was so powerful and I was so full of awe." At this, Lavender clasped her hands to her heart. "I can't describe it. I think you captivated the whole class!"

"Good," Hermione said, although she herself didn't quite believe it. But then again, she didn't exactly hear herself sing. "That'll keep Pansy's mouth shut for a while."

"You should have told me you had such a great voice!"

Hermione scratched her head. "That was the first time I ever sang in my life."

Lavender stopped in her step and stared at her friend with her mouth open and eyes as big saucers. "Really? Wait, no, you're lying."

"I swear it's the truth."

"Nobody can sing that well on their first try!" Lavender argued. "Can they?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."

Lavender, whose mind had already wondered off that subject, clasped her hands together happily. "You should have seen the look on Pansy's face! She was nothing compared to you. _Nothing!_"

Before Hermione could reply, Harry and Ron darted out of a nearby classroom and they came rushing to her.

"Hey, Hermione! We're eating lunch at Hagrid's, do you want to come?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, not today."

"Why not?" Harry frowned. The three of them always stayed together and always visited Hagrid together.

"I've set up a meeting during lunch to talk to Professor McGonagall." She glanced at her watch. "And if I don't hurry, I'll be late."

"McGonagall? Is this about your test?"

Hermione sighed. "It's my essay. I figured McGonagall would be bound to know something about Aurora - she was teaching here back then, wasn't she?"

Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Well, I guess I'll see you later," Hermione said, waving good-bye to her friends. "I've got to get to the Transfiguration classroom in less than five minutes!"

~*~

Hermione knocked cautiously on the door and waited patiently for a response. Fortunately, it came soon.

"Come in."

Slowly, she pushed the creaking door open. Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, which was topped with a pile of papers at the moment. Quietly, Hermione carried a chair over to the front of the desk so that she was facing the professor.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" said the professor, looking up from all the paperwork.

"Professor, we're doing research essays in Professor Binn's class and - "

McGonagall put her hand up to silence Hermione. "Say no more. Alumni essay, is it? Every year I have students come and ask me."

Hermione licked her lips. "C-could you help me?"

"Who might this person be?"

"Her name's Aurora. Aurora Belle Riviera."

The professor removed her glasses and set them down on the table. "Ah. I see."

"I've looked everywhere, but have found close to nothing about her. C-could you maybe give me a little information about her?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Dark hair, blue eyes, rather tall - you're talking about her, right?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, nodding. "The one that looks like a Greek goddess out of one of those mythology books."

Professor McGonagall responded with a quiet chuckle. "Aurora Riviera - she was quite the scheming devil. I never did like her much, although I always respected her."

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"She was Lily Evans' competition for Head Girl. It was a Slytherin against a Gryffindor. Of course I didn't like her much."

Hermione laughed. "She couldn't have been that much of a threat to Lily. After all, Lily did become Head Girl and she's known as one of the smartest witches to ever come to Hogwarts."

The professor shook her head slowly and sighed, massaging her temples. "I don't know if I should be telling you this."

"Telling me what?" Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Professor McGonagall averted her eyes. "If Aurora hadn't dropped out of the running for Head Girl, Lily would have never gotten that position."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "_What?_"

"Near the end of her sixth year, Aurora asked Dumbledore to take her off the list of possible candidates for Head Girl," Professor McGonagall said, sighing heavily.

"Why would she do that?"

"One can only wonder."

"I see," Hermione said softly, not comprehending how someone would willingly give up their place as Head Girl.

"Her marks were consistently higher than Lily's - even when she didn't try." The professor sighed. "She had quite a passion for learning. She had the brains, and the beauty."

When Hermione didn't respond, the professor continued. "She was possibly the most beautiful girl to ever enter Hogwarts."

Hermione's lips twisted into a small smile. "I can tell. She's got such a powerful - "

" - aura around her?" the professor finished.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Exactly."

Professor McGonagall smiled gently at Hermione and sighed. Hermione took this as a chance to take out the piece of parchment from her bookbag, which she had written a few questions she could ask the professor about.

"Who were her friends?"

"She was the leader of the Slytherin clique of rather snobbish girls. Lily didn't like them much - I was her sole confidante at school," she said. "They were not the nicest people in the world - all of them were from rich, influential, pureblood families while Lily was a muggle-born. They gave her quite a bit of trouble. Actually, they gave everyone a bit of trouble."

"So she had many Slytherin friends?"

"No, no, not just Slytherins. The whole male population at Hogwarts fell for her, and they fell hard. You can imagine the scandals she caused," she said with a wry smile.

"What about her parents? I heard that they died when she was young. Do you happen to know anything about it?" Hermione asked, looking up from the list.

"Poor girl," the professor said, a voice even bordered sadness. "She couldn't have been more than four years old when they died, I believe. She was raised by the servants of the house who spoiled and dotted on her, from what I heard."

"That's awful," Hermione said. She tried imagine how she would feel if her parents died when she was that young. She couldn't picture it. She couldn't imagine a world without her mother and father - they had always been there to encourage her, to comfort her. A world without them would have not been a world at all.

"She almost lost her life at school, too."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, interested.

"The first-years were in a boating course, which isn't offered here anymore. The boats were halfway across the lake, everyone in their own. She was standing in her boat with an umbrella, looking like a porcelain doll when one of the lake's creatures flipped over her boat and she fell overboard."

"She couldn't swim?" Hermione asked, scribbling the notes down.

"She was an excellent swimmer, but she had hit her head on the side of the boat as she went down and knocked herself out, or so I heard. Everyone was so afraid of the creature that they started paddling away," the professor said, shaking her head. "If it hadn't been for him, she would have probably drowned before we could get to her."

"If it hadn't been for who?"

"Why, James Potter, of course!"

Hermione looked up from the parchment. "James Potter saved her life?"

"If he hadn't seen her fall over and immediately dive into the water to rescue her, she would have died."

"So James Potter saved her life." Hermione let it all sink in. "Oh poor girl, so much misfortune in life."

"Her parents left her a large fortune, I believe. She was the only living descendant of the Riviera family left."

Hermione nodded in sympathy and then glanced down at the parchment again. "After Hogwarts, do you know who she married and if she had any children?" Hermione asked, reading off the list.

"She didn't have any children."

"Oh?" Hermione could hardly imagine any married woman in the wizarding world not having children.

"She didn't marry."

That seemed even more odd to Hermione. If she was so popular and was chased after by all the male students in Hogwarts, then it was quite unbelievable that she never married.

The professor glanced at a large grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room. "I'm sorry, but I have a meeting to attend with Professor Dumbledore. Please excuse me."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said quickly, rising from her seat. She didn't want to hinder the wise witch.

"Anytime, Miss Granger."

~*~

"Hermione, want to come and watch our Quidditch practice tonight?" asked Harry. "It begins in twenty minutes."

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Harry, I'd love to, but I've got work to do."

"It's that essay again, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"You need to take a break," said Ron, concerned. "You'll wear yourself out."

"I'm fine," Hermione said, shaking off their words. "And I hate to procrastinate. I just want to get it done and over with."

Harry shrugged. "Alright, then. Ron and I have to go now."

After they hurried off to quidditch practice, Hermione left the Great Hall and made her way to the library with slow, heavy footsteps. She hadn't had much sleep in a while and it was beginning to affect her negatively.

The library was surprisingly empty, she noticed when she arrived. Usually there were always around twenty people there at any given time, but today there was less than ten. Perhaps other people had gone to watch the quidditch practice. Or perhaps they had a life, she thought miserably.

She threw her bookbag onto a free table and slowly made her way to the shelves. She knew exactly what she was looking for and was able to quickly pull it off the shelf and bring it to her table. It was the same velvet book that she had looked at last time she was here with Ron and Harry. It was the book of Hogwarts alumnus.

She set the heavy book down on the tabletop and flipped it open. To her luck, she had flipped it right to the page she was looking for. Staring back at her from the page was the photograph of Aurora Riviera posing serenely by the stairs.

Hermione sat down and just simply stared at the picture for almost an eternity. It completely captivated her. The girl in the photograph stood so absolutely still that Hermione wondered for a while whether it was actually a wizard photograph or not. Then Hermione noticed that every once in a while, her shining deep blue eyes would blink.

Was this the girl who had willingly given up the title of Head Girl to a girl who was in her rival house? Hermione wondered what kind of a person would do such a thing. She could never imagine herself doing anything of the sort. She had wanted to be Head Girl so much, she wouldn't have given it up for anything. She had spent years fighting for the place. Under what circumstance would a person be willing to give up all those years of work? Whoever worked that hard for six years only to give up everything, in Hermione's opinion, was a fool.

Hermione stared at the picture, mesmerized by the intensity of it, the raging emotion that was captured.

"I've seen her."

The voice startled her and she spun her body around to face the speaker. Leaning over her shoulder and looking over onto the photograph was none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Liar," she spat, slamming the book shut. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her. "That girl - "

"I'm _not_ interested," came Hermione's fierce reply. "What do you want?"

"I want to know," he said, looking stern and taking a seat next to her, much to her dismay. "I want answers."

"I don't know!" she said, cutting him off. "All right? I don't know what happened to my eyes and I know why you can see it and I don't know why everyone else can't. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! Now will you leave me alone?"

"I can help you find out."

She stared at him blankly for a second but then returned to her irritated state. "It's _my_ business."

"But I want to know." His fist came down hard on the sturdy wood.

"Why?" she asked, exhaling deeply. "What the hell do you care?"

"Because it has something to do with me," he said, with a noticeable tremor in his voice. It almost sounded like Draco Malfoy was...frightened. "I can feel that it does."

She shook her head sadly. "Don't get involved."

"I already am."

Hermione set her head on the book and closed her eyes for a second, not knowing how she could reply.

"Aurora, right?" Draco said, looking away from her.

Her head shot up. "_What?_ What did you say?"

"The girl in the picture," he said, gesturing at the book, "that's Aurora, right?"

She didn't think she was hearing him correctly. How could he know her? And he seemed to know a lot more than she did even after all her hours of research. Then she remembered - they were both Slytherins - their families were probably long time friends or something, she decided. But then again, she wasn't sure. She peered at him under lowered eyebrows. "How do you know her?"

"I thought you weren't interested," he said, his lips curling into a smile.

"I am now," she said, crossing her arms.

"Well," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips, "I don't know if I should tell you."

"My mark in Binn's class depends on this!" she said fiercely, sending him a glare.

"Alright, let's make a deal, how about it?"

She observed him with her eyebrow raised. "I'm _not_ sleeping with you."

He emitted a loud sigh followed by what Hermione interpreted as a look of disgust. "How many times do I have to remind you that I have no interest in you that way?"

When she didn't respond, he continued. "I'll tell you everything I know about Aurora if you - "

"If I what?"

"If you let me investigate that eye mystery with you."

"I told you it's none of your business."

"I want to know," he said again. His redundancy irritated her.

"Look, Malfoy. This is _my_ life."

"But I'm involved. I'm tied to it somehow. And I want to know why." His tone was so powerful that it scared her. She determined she wouldn't let it bother her.

"You better hide," Hermione commented sarcastically as a large group of students wandered into the library. "You don't want to be seen talking to _me_, do you? Tsk, tsk, what would that do to your reputation?"

He reached out and placed a firm, almost commanding, hand on her arm. "Believe, if I didn't have to be here, _I wouldn't be_. But somehow, this whole thing has something to do with me, and I want to know what it is and why. Right now I just need one answer from you. Yes or no?"

She pondered this for a second. If she said no to him, then she'd probably fail her essay for Binn's. On the other hand, if she agreed to this with him, that would mean she could probably find some valuable information on Aurora Riviera. That was all she cared about at this point.

And about all that eye business, who cares? She'd let him research - she had already done enough of her own and nothing had turned up. He would just fail miserably like her and give up. It would be a great way to keep him busy while she could dig some Aurora information out of him.

She smiled wickedly. "Alright."

"Perfect." His smile displayed his two neat rows of gleaming white teeth. "Meet me at the willow tree off the bend in the road at the next Hogsmeade weekend."

Before she could ask any questions, he promptly rose from his seat and strode out of the library, his robes whipping behind him.

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Okay, end of another chapter! Starting from the next chapter (which I am going to start writing right now even though I should be studying for my tests and doing my home work that is already late), the story should move pretty fast. Till next time, ciao!


	6. Chapter 6

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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VERY IMPORTANT A/N: Something will happen in this chapter of this story that will seem very cliché to you guys. However, I want to say that what you read today is NOT the plot. This is only one of the events (in a whole series of events) that will LEAD UP TO the plot. So don't hate me for making this kind of cliché because although it's rather important to the development of the plot (and yes, there is one), it's not going to be the sole focus of the story.

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Thanks to my reviewers: ..., Ginnyrules890, dracohermioneshipper, ace2slayer, aku-neko, Alexia of Queenscove, pinked, DerangedCheshireCat, Nikki, tainted black, BlueBird, Angel of Music, Malfoy Twin, rabid-dragons, Wizzabee, sakura_angel90, Li-chan, Dragonfires, M1ssBlackNails, Yousei Kaijou, zali, Elfmoon87, Dragon Bad Faith, DrAcO'sGurL, A Friend, and anyone I missed although I hope I didn't.

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Six

Hermione approached the bend in the road with steady, strong footsteps at a rapid pace; she didn't want to waste any precious time at all. To the left of the curve, she caught sight of a large willow tree standing in the middle of an immense patch of green grass. Taking a deep breath, she jogged the last few steps up to the tree, looking around for any sign of life.

He was late, she thought with disappointment. It had taken much skill and conniving to be able to leave Harry and Ron behind in Zonko's when she came out here to meet him. All her effort completely wasted! When he got here - _if_ he got here - she would surely hex him.

She glanced around impatiently, her attention traveling from here to there. All that met her eyes was the assortment of flowers littered around the grass. Once in a while, she would see a rabbit or squirrel dart out of the nearby forest, but no sign of any human life. Her patience was beginning to wear thin and she walked back to the willow tree, using it to shield her from the harsh rays of the sun.

_Thud._

Hermione screamed in fright - actually it was closer to surprise - as she felt something large and heavy pounce out of the tree and land next to her. The moment the shriek issued from her throat, she used her arms to cover her head and closed her eyes. What if it was a bear? Or mountain lion?

When nothing happened to her, and all she heard was laughter breaking out, she uncovered her head and looked to see Draco Malfoy standing by her side with his mouth opening, laughing.

"That's _not_ funny," she shot with a look of absolute loathing in her eyes.

"Y-yes it is!" Draco exclaimed through bouts of laughter. Was he capable of laughing? She sure was surprised.

She threw him a disgusted look. "That was so immature."

He replied with a shrug. "It certainly scared you."

Ignoring him, she tackled the real reason as to why she was here. "So, what do we do now?"

"Follow me," he said simply, with his usual air of coolness, starting to walk off the road, in a direction that she had never ventured into.

"Where are you going?" she yelled at him, with her hands on her hips.

Draco stopped in his step and turned around. "Come and you'll see."

"No," she said stubbornly. "Tell me first."

"If you don't want to come, that's fine with me," he said shrugging, as he turned and started to walk off again.

"Come back here!" Hermione yelled with frustration and crossed her arms. He completely disregarded her and she seethed smoke.

Okay, so she knew she had two choices. Either to follow Draco Malfoy to wherever he was going to take her, or to fail her history essay. Well, she sure didn't want to go somewhere when she didn't know what that place was. What if he led her to a cave and tied her there and left her for the bears to eat? But perhaps that would be better than failing history class. She couldn't imagine getting a bad mark. What would that do to her reputation?

Sighing in defeat, she ran to catch up with him.

Draco's lips curled up in a smile as he heard her quick footsteps nearing him. He knew that she'd come along. She would do anything to pass Binn's class and besides, he knew that she was also curious. She had obviously been surprised when he mentioned Aurora the other day and he knew she was dying to find out everything he had to say. He liked the feeling - the feeling of having absolute control over her.

Hermione finally caught up with Draco who didn't bother to acknowledge her. She followed silently behind him at a swift pace to keep up with his long strides. They walked in an uneasy silence - at least to Hermione it seemed so. She didn't know what to say to him and obviously he didn't want to talk to her either. She didn't have the guts to start up a conversation.

After all, she was Hermione Granger, the pride of the Gryffindor house. She couldn't have anything to say to Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin prince. They didn't have anything in common. He was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor - that in itself made them worlds apart.

So Hermione let her mind wander off and enjoy the beauty of autumn. The orange and yellow leaves blazed like the sun as they drifted from their branches and landed on the fresh, vibrant meadow. She reached out a hand to catch a leaf.

She was so mesmerized in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed when Draco Malfoy stopped suddenly in his tracks. It was only after she walked about five meters past him that she finally realized he was no longer in front of her.

The fear of being deserted in the middle of the forest came upon her quickly. Her mind began to panic as she glanced around frantically to find him. She found him standing behind her and then realized what a complete idiot she had been to not notice that he had stopped. Blushing furiously, she hurried back to him.

"Here," he said, handing her an object that looked like a toothpick. 

This was the first word he had spoken to her in nearly half an hour and it startled her. She reached out to grab the toothpick from his fingers. He wouldn't let go and she pulled harder. Didn't he _wan_t to give it to her?

"I mean for you to touch it, not steal it," he said calmly.

She was just about to ask him what he meant when she felt a jerk behind her navel that made her sick to her stomach. A billion colors swirled past her and she felt like she was ready to faint - or heave for that matter. To settle the deal, she closed her eyes, hoping that would cause her nausea to disappear, or at least get it under control.

She then felt that everything around her had stopped whirling and her foot landed with a thud on firm ground. She opened her eyes and felt too dizzy to support herself. She knew she was going to fall over and felt her body tilt to the side. Shutting her eyes, she prepared to hit the ground.

However, that never happened. Two strong arms caught her and helped her back into a standing position. Hermione's head was swimming and it was a while before she could open her eyes and steady herself. It took another period time before she felt she was ready to walk.

"I'm okay now," she said to Draco. "Just got a little dizzy."

"Sorry," he replied and she was startled to notice there was a note of care in his voice. "I didn't realize that you'd never used a mini-portkey before. They're usually harder to handle than regular portkeys and it takes a few tries to get used to them."

She nodded. "It's okay."

"Are you ready to go yet?"

"Yes, I think so," Hermione said uncertainly.

She finally looked up and took in the surroundings. She decided that she had never seen such a beautiful place before, even in movies.

Near them there was a roaring waterfall which fed into a large pond area of some sort. Around it there, lush green grass covered all of the soft soil. Beautiful leafy trees stood proudly by the pond-side, showing no signs of late autumn. There were mountains in the distance that towered robustly over all.

All in all, it the place seemed enchanted, almost as if it had some magical quality. It was too beautiful to take in at one setting, Hermione though as her eyes wandered around her. Too beautiful.

Draco had begun to make his way through the thick trees and was now more than twenty meters away from her. She rushed to catch up with him. She no longer felt sick - the fresh air and the sounds of water had eased her stomach.

She followed him silently, studying the forest with wonder and awe. The sweet melody of the chirping birds was music to her ears. The rustle of the trees added to that and the roar of the waterfall provided the background. It was a wonderful symphony.

The forest cleared as they arrived at a large clearing. In the middle sat a beautiful chateau. It was gray and made of stone. It reminded Hermione of the picture books she had read when she was young of King Arthur and Camelot. This castle looked like it was taken straight out of one of those books. It was gorgeous.

"What rich bastard owns that nest?" Hermione asked in awe, and then wished she could take it back.

"This one," Draco sneered, although it didn't sound like he cared much.

Hermione decided she would keep her mouth shut from then on.

"The Malfoy family built it hundreds of years ago," Draco explained, giving her a background on the chateau. "It is rather nice, isn't it?"

"_Nice?_" She stared at him open-mouthed. "It's absolutely gorgeous!"

He laughed warm-heartedly. "You should see my summer house in France! It's a hundred time more splendid than this one."

She gazed trance-like at the castle.

"So what does your house look like?"

Hermione had always considered her house to be beautiful. Her parents were famous dentists so of course they had loads of money. Their estate was quite big and they lived comfortably in the large mansion. However, it was nothing compared to this.

"It's quite big, but not as big as this," she said modestly. "I have a large bedroom, and I have a large library that's all my own, a study room and a very fine bathroom. My parents give me whatever I want. I'm quite spoiled." And then as an afterthought: "But not as spoiled as you."

He only smiled. "I get whatever I want because I have the money."

"And I get what I want because my parents love me to no end," Hermione said happily. "Although I usually don't ask them for much."

"Your parents must dote on you," he said, glancing at her.

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Sometimes I feel like they treat me too much like a small child - it's like they don't want me to grow up. You know, I was their miracle child. The doctors told my mother that she couldn't have any children, ever, but she told me that she prayed and prayed and then I came along. I suppose that's why they love me so much. I'm the only child they will ever have. I guess that's why they don't ever want me to grow up - they want to keep me forever."

They had reached the outer walls of the castle already and now faced an iron-gate where the castle's moat should have been. The gate was open so Hermione, without asking Draco, took off from his side and skipped up to it like a small child.

"Wait!" Draco called as he quickly tried to catch up with her. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed the note of panic in his voice.

However, she took no heed and made her way into the outer walls through the open gate. After getting in, she waited impatiently for Draco to catch up with her.

He was gasping for air now, and she suddenly realized that he had sprinted to catch up with her. What the hurry was, she didn't know. He didn't have to catch up _that_ fast, in her opinion.

"Granger, I told you to wait!" he said angrily between gasps of air. "I should have known that a _mudblood_ like you wouldn't be able to follow simple directions."

His words shouldn't have hurt, but they did. She had almost thought they were going to be civil to each other. But now, this. There was nothing between them - they weren't friends and they weren't ever going to be, she knew. This was just strictly a business deal, and nothing more.

"You could have died!" he said. "Do you _honestly_ think my ancestors would have made it so easy to get into the Malfoy household?"

She was puzzled. "What?"

"They placed a spell on the gates to only give entrance to a select few, namely Malfoys and close friends whom they are taught to recognize. You aren't one of them," he said and then frowned. "Under normal circumstances, the ground should have opened and you would have fallen into a deep abyss and died. I should inform Father about it - perhaps the spell is weakening and in that case a new one will need to be put into its place."

Hermione looked stunned but recovered quickly and fingered the chain around her neck. "It was this that saved me."

"What?"

"My pendant - my lucky charm," she said as-a-matter-of-factly. "It gives me good luck and it's saved my life a couple of times."

He shook his head. "I don't know what could have saved you from a spell like that."

"Fine, don't believe me then. Harry and Ron don't."

Hermione wanted to enter through the main entrance of the castle, but Draco shook his head and led her to another door near the back. He told her it was because he didn't want anyone to know that they were there - this investigation was to be completely secret. That also meant that they couldn't run into anyone in the castle. Well, perhaps the house-elves he could bribe to keep their mouths shut, but they needed to avoid his mother.

The room that they entered was a pinkish maroon color. It was small and the only piece of furniture was a couch - not like anything else would have fit. Facing the couch, on the other side, was a fireplace. Although there weren't many furnishings, everything in the room was elegant and gave off a feeling of wealth.

The moment Hermione stepped inside, she received a feeling of warmth and love. It was quite a nasty shock for her and she voiced it.

"I never imagined your house like this," she said. "It's so warm and comforting."

"Oh?" said Draco, eyeing her. "What did you imagine?"

"I imagined you living in a dark creepy manor with cobwebs and spiders hanging from the ceiling."

His first response was to laugh, but then his face grew serious. "That's what you would think, right?"

She nodded absently, running her hand over the mantle over the fireplace.

"What do you think of us? The Slytherin families, I mean."

"You mean, what do I think about the Slytherins tampering with the dart arts and the Dark Lord?" She said. "I think it's horrendous to stoop down to that level."

"Oh, and why do you say that?" he seemed almost genuinely interested.

"You kill people, you bring destruction everywhere, you're trying to bring the Light side down so that darkness can take over the world," she said in repulsion.

He emitted a soft chuckle. "That's because you don't see it from our view. You were brought up to believe that the Light side is right and you have that embedded into your brain. For me, speaking on behalf of all the Slytherins, we were brought up to believe that what we do is right. Is there really a right and a wrong? It's just two sides battling each other."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You live to create destruction while we live to maintain peace."

"What is peace? What is destruction? You've been brought up to think that the Light side is good, and the Dark side is bad," he argued. "But if you saw it from our view, it would be completely different. You would see that everything we do is right. Light and Dark - they're only two words. Maybe one day you'll see it from our view."

Hermione shook her head furiously. "I can never - will never - see it from your point of view. You're wrong and you've got to realize it."

Draco only shook his head sadly. "One day you'll see."

There was an uneasiness between the two of them so Draco decided that it was time they stopped talking and got moving along. He motioned for her to follow him and she did so. 

They hurried down a long hallway and down some stairs and then up some more and down another hallway. And then Hermione couldn't remember the rest - it all became a big jumble inside her head. She could swear, though, that it took more than half an hour to finally get to where Draco was taking her. When they arrived at the place he was leading to, he threw open the door.

Hermione knew exactly what it was.

"The drawing room, right?" She had remembered the polyjuice experiment in their second year and what information Harry and Ron had gotten out of it. The Malfoy family kept everything related to the dark arts under the drawing room.

Draco responded by nodding and then led her inside the polished oak door. He shut the door slowly behind him so that it wouldn't close with a click and attract unwanted attention. 

Hermione glanced around, enjoying the beautifully decorated room. It was quite large, and the walls were painted in gold. Paintings and drawings hung from the walls - there were lots of them. A few sculptures also sat here and there.

Quickly, Draco grabbed Hermione by the arm, an action that surprised her, and practically dragged her to the royal blue carpet that spanned a small area of the room.

It was there that he knelt down and peeled the carpet out of its place and under it Hermione saw a hinge door. He whispered something to it and it clicked open automatically, revealing a dimly lit room underneath. There was a ladder leading from the top to the bottom and Draco motioned for Hermione to climb down it.

She didn't know if she wanted to. What if this was a trap? What if she went down there and then he slammed the opening back up and locked her in to die? She searched his face and found no sign of malice or anything of the sort and then she decided she would take the chance.

Hermione lowered herself into the opening and cautiously descended the wooden ladder, which she realized was very nicely polished and smooth - she had been expecting to get splinters. As soon as she landed on the bottom, she glanced up to see if Draco was coming, and sure enough, he was.

The room was surprisingly empty, Hermione noticed. She had been expecting to see lots of dark objects and such. Basically, she had expected this to look like a torture chamber of some sort.

And also, hadn't Harry and Ron told her back in second year that Malfoy had admitted that the room under the drawing room was indeed full of dark objects?

"You seemed like you were expecting something?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrow, almost as if he could read her mind.

"It's so...empty," she replied, looking around.

Draco nodded. "We kept everything relating to the Dark Lord down here. That is, until the middle of second year when we received notice from some spies in the Ministry that they were coming to our house especially to search under the drawing room. Apparently someone gave this place away."

Hermione tried very hard not to smile. Ron was the one who had spilled the beans on Malfoy's hidden loot under the drawing room.

"So now what? How does this in any way relate to Aurora Riviera?" asked Hermione, dusting her hands off and heaving a great sigh.

"There's a hidden room in here," Draco said as he felt along the walls with his hands. "I just have to find it."

Hermione prepared herself for a long wait, but it didn't take very long for him to find it. He tapped the wall three times in different places with his wand and suddenly, one side of the wall completely melted away.

There was a small chamber that was dimly lit, by a light source that Hermione could not determine. There was an elegant table at one end of the tiny chamber that almost took up the whole area. On the table were pictures in frames- pictures of the girl that Hermione had worked so hard to find out more about.

Hermione hurried to the chamber and carefully stepped inside. It was only after she had taken her first step in that she realized the floor was also scattered with pictures and that photographs covered every inch of the wall on the inside of the chamber. She had never seen so many photographs in her life.

"There's practically a whole shrine dedicated to her," Draco said, standing at the side, leaning on the wall and studying Hermione closely. "I stumbled into this place by accident when I was little and I begged my mother to tell me who the woman was in the picture." He paused, almost as if searching for the right words. "My mother has granted all the wishes I ever had in my life, but this was the one thing she said she could never tell me. Eventually I found out because I found a picture that had her name printed on the back."

Hermione gazed at the photographs and Draco continued. "I always wondered why my mother could give me everything in the world, but she just couldn't whisper one name to me. I think there's something in her past that she didn't want to remember."

"Malfoy, could we take all this?" Hermione asked, running her hands along the pictures on the walls.

"That's just what I was going to say," he said, conjuring up a large duffel bag. "We can't stay here for long. Take this and stuff everything into it."

The two worked hard to pick up every picture from the ground and to stick it into the bag. The frames were easy to collect off of the table, but the really hard part was removing the pictures from the walls. It was difficult to take them off without tearing them, and it took them awhile to accomplish it.

When they finally finished - the chamber was completely bare now with only the wooden table sitting in it - Draco mumbled a spell and closed the wall up again.

Draco climbed up the ladder first and Hermione followed closely behind him. Then he opened the hinge door just a tiny crack and then stopped.

"Shit," he said, whispering. "My mother's here."

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked urgently.

"We're going to wait," Draco said.

So the two descended the ladder again and waited and waited. Periodically, Draco would climb up and see if his mother was gone. But they had no luck - she was just sitting on one of the couches and wouldn't leave.

Finally, they decided that something needed to be done. It was nearing seven o'clock and the gates to Hogwarts officially closed at eight o'clock. If they didn't get back soon, they would be locked out and probably would get into trouble. On Hogsmeade days, they were instructed to stay within two miles of the village and Hermione was sure that wherever they were was out of that two mile range.

"We have to go up," Draco said finally, "and face my mother."

Hermione nodded tiredly. As much as she didn't want to meet his mother, it was their last resort.

"Make up a name for yourself or something. You can't be Hermione Granger - she's seen the name enough in the Daily Prophet to know that you're a mudblood," here Hermione cringed, "and you have to pretend you're a pureblood, all right?"

Hermione agreed and the two of them climbed the ladder up again. This time, they didn't stop, and Draco opened the hinge door and the two of them stepped into the bright light of the drawing room.

Narcissa Malfoy was seated on the couch looking at a painting that she held in her hands. This was second time she had seen the woman - the first being at the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year. She had looked just another nasty blonde then, but now Hermione noticed how stunning the woman looked. 

Her fine hair was in an elegant up-do and the robe she was wearing suited her perfectly and didn't look too over-done. What really caught Hermione's attention was that this woman showed no signs of being the arrogant cow she had seemed like at the World Cup. She seemed almost...kind.

When Narcissa saw them, her face showed her surprise and she set down the painting she had in her hand.

"Mother," Draco greeted as he hurried over to give her a peck on the cheek. "This is my friend - "

" - Lavender Brown," Hermione said sweetly.

Draco sent her a venomous glare and she only sent him a sugary smile. She knew he was sensitive to that name.

Narcissa studied Hermione very closely and the girl felt terribly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. What she really wanted to do was to tell Narcissa to quit staring at her, but then it would be a bit rude, she thought. She bit her lip and waited for Draco's mother's piercing stare to leave her.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," Narcissa said, taking her eyes off Hermione finally. There was a quality in Narcissa's voice that Hermione had not expected - she seemed almost sad.

"Mother, she's doing a research paper about Aurora," Draco said, and Hermione noticed how Narcissa's eyes grew wide at the mention of the name. "We came to find some information and we were just about to leave - "

"Wait," Hermione said. She was sure that Narcissa probably had a lot of information about Aurora - she seemed like she knew her well. "Mrs. Malfoy, do you know Aurora?"

There was a pause - and a long one at that. Hermione felt like she had asked the wrong thing. If Draco, her own son, had never been able to get anything out of his mother, she definitely wouldn't tell a complete stranger anything either.

"Yes," Narcissa replied, much to both of their surprise. "We were friends."

"C-can you tell me anything about her?" Hermione asked, hoping that she would get an answer.

Narcissa seemed to stare into the wall. "We were friends when we were young - even before the death of her parents."

Narcissa heaved a great sigh and Hermione could tell that a great burden had left her. The next time she spoke, there was a smile playing on her gentle features.

"She was my best friend, actually," Narcissa chuckled lightly, talking easily now. There was nothing restraining her anymore. "She believed she could do anything. She had this necklace, an old family heirloom that had been passed on generation to generation through the firstborn. Thought she could do anything when she had it. Always wore this necklace and said it gave her good luck." Suddenly, and without warning, Narcissa's face turned cold, which didn't compliment her features. "Too bad it didn't do her any good."

"What?" Hermione asked curiously. "What do you mean?"

Narcissa's melancholy eyes stared straight into Hermione's and her lips held a slight quiver. "There are some things that should never be spoken."

Narcissa rose from the couch and strolled briskly to the door and left the drawing room without another word. Hermione was terrified that she had said something wrong to cause such a reaction from her. What had she said? She felt terrible.

"Let's go," Draco said hurriedly, shattering her thoughts. "Or else the Hogwarts gate will close."

Hermione nodded but still couldn't take her mind off the subject. As they used another portkey and returned to the school, Narcissa Malfoy's last words repeated in Hermione's mind.

_There are some things that should never be spoken..._

~*~

As soon as they entered the Hogwarts grounds, the two of them made their way quickly to the library, eager to see what they had uncovered. However, they had to walk a slight bit away from each other. After all, they couldn't let anyone see them walking together. People would talk.

When they arrived at the library, they picked a table near the back that was covered by shelves so that they would not be easily noticed. Hermione unzipped the duffel bag and fished out everything that was inside. She laid all of the pictures on the table where she and Draco were seated. Then they began to sift through the photographs, categorizing them.

There were many photographs of the girl, Aurora. There were plenty of baby pictures of her and many of her when she was in her younger years. And then there were some of her when she was a teenager. However, none of the pictures went above her teenage years. Hermione thought that was terribly strange.

In some of the photographs, she was alone, and in some she was surrounded by people who Hermione assumed were her friends. She was laughing and smiling in those pictures, and Hermione noticed how much she stood out from everyone else. She was so full of life.

"There's my mother," Draco said, pointing out a pretty blonde girl in one of the pictures. The two were giggling and near the top were the words "Best Friends."

Hermione nodded. "It seems like she was happy - look at the way she's laughing and smiling in the pictures."

Draco picked up one of the framed pictures and studied it closely. "I guess that must be the necklace my mother was talking about."

Hermione glanced over at the photograph Draco was holding. "She's too far away from the photographer. All you can see is the shine reflected off of it from the sun."

Draco shrugged and then set it back on the table again. However, he wasn't careful and had only put the frame halfway on the table and the photograph slipped and fell to the ground with a crash.

"Malfoy!" she said, annoyed. "Look what you just did."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Hermione sighed and shook her head disapprovingly at him. Then she bent to pick the broken crystal frame off the floor of the library. As she did so, she noticed something. There was another photograph hidden behind the one that they had seen in the frame. Curious, she turned it over.

Her breath caught in her throat. Draco noticed and bent over her shoulder to see what she was staring at.

It was a picture - a medium sized one. There was a beautiful background - a magnificent waterfall near the edge of the woods and a cabin somewhere to the left of it. The girl, Aurora was sitting in what looked like a large tree with the lovely scenery behind her. She was smiling - by far the happiest and brightest smile of all her pictures. She looked like a woman who had everything she could possibly have in life, and was completely content.

Then Draco saw what she held in her arms. She was cradling and holding up a young infant, who was also facing the camera. The baby was also smiling, and looked absolutely darling. Draco had never seen a happier infant. Perhaps the child was happy to be with its mother, he thought. The child and the mother both seemed to be joyful.

Then something else caught his eye. Around the child's neck there was a chain - whether it was silver or platinum, he couldn't tell. But he could see that there was a beautiful pendant suspended from it. It was a soft violet - almost lavender - color. It was cut in an exquisite shape and shone brightly in the sunlight.

Turning back to Hermione, he noticed that something about her was wrong - he could feel that something was wrong and he didn't know why.

"Granger?" he asked gently.

She only stared intently on the picture, and it was a while before she finally, and very agonizingly slowly, turned her gaze unto him. When he saw her eyes, he knew something was not right.

Hermione put a hand on the blouse she was wearing. At first he thought that she was beginning to unbutton her shirt, and thought he was definitely going insane. And then he realized that she wasn't unbuttoning it, but reaching for something under it. 

As her fingers found what they were searching for and fished it from underneath her shirt, Draco caught the familiar gleam of a silver chain. And then he saw the pendant hanging from it - shining mysteriously, even in the dim light of the library.

Draco Malfoy found it impossible to mask his look of surprise. He stared at the pendant, and then back at Hermione, and then back at the pendant again.

It took a while before he could get any words out.

"What does it mean?" he asked, swallowing, although he knew exactly what it meant.

He didn't want to admit it, but the look on Hermione's face frightened him. It was as if all the liveliness in her character had deserted her. Her face was completely blank, or so it seemed. All that was left of her was a look on her face that he had never seen before - it was one of complete and utter despair. It confused him because he couldn't decipher it and he wanted to. 

They were silent for almost an eternity. When she finally spoke, her icy cold tone sent chills down Draco's spine and stayed in his memory forever.

"It doesn't mean anything."

Her face still a blank slate, she swept past him, her robes brushing against his as she swept out of the place.

It was only after she had left the library far behind that she entered an empty corridor and finally broke down and cried.

~*~

TBC

~*~

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ANOTHER VERY IMPORTANT A/N: All right, so, now you probably know what I was rambling on about at the A/N before the beginning of the chapter. Yes, I know it's cliché, but it has to be done. Please don't hate me! It's VERY important to the development of the plot. Okay, think of the plot of this story as a very big, twisted, jumble of knots. This is only one of the knots. And each knot will lead up to another knot and then finally the whole big jumble of knots will be revealed. Okay, that was confusing. And do rest assured, Draco will NOT be like, "Oh look she's a pureblood, I'm in love with her now and I want to marry her." Well, until next time, ciao!


	7. Chapter 7

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. School kills. This chapter doesn't really present any new information to the reader, but Hermione does learn something new. 

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Thanks to my reviewers: Dragon Scales, Dragon Bad Faith, p0tterzpal, Questions answers, Kakuraji, Dreaming One, Elfmoon87, sweet-cookie, Oria, tainted black, ..., HarryPotterWanter, Kristina Chang, Lucent Dusk, starbright, avri, Alexial, aku-neko, lucy, DrAcOlUvA99, Deese-Rouge-Cheveux, Achicagoil, K-chan, maggot, Miss Madison, zali, DerangedCheshireCat, Yousei Kaijou, Blackened Flame, Lady Calliope, Angel of Music, BlueBird, Redbird, Joanna, Ardent Entity, Dragonfires, babmidnight, hey there cutie, Dana, hermie4sev, and anyone I might have missed, in which case I would feel really bad. Oh yeah, and thanks to blondieditz (I don't know your penname) who emailed me.

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Seven

She picked herself up from the hard stone ground, dusted off her robes and resolved not to think about it anymore. There were footsteps in the distance coming towards her and she quickly wiped away all the tears staining her face. She wouldn't let anyone see her cry.

It was her pride telling her to not let others see her tears. Her pride - the pride that she had grown up with - the pride that was a part of her. A part of her? A part of who? Who was she? She couldn't answer that.

This was just a misunderstanding, she told herself. She was still Hermione Granger. She was still the daughter of Charles and Elizabeth Granger. She was still the best friend of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. She was still the smartest witch in Hogwarts. She was still a Gryffindor. She was still herself.

That was all she knew, all she would convince herself to believe. Everything else was just misunderstandings.

The footsteps neared and she could tell that the person was already in the corridor. She turned around and met two gray eyes.

He was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. He was the one who made everything so real. If he hadn't been there - if he hadn't been a witness to the event - then she could go on with the rest of her life and pretend that nothing had happened. But, no, he was there - he served as her constant reminder.

She didn't want to face it - she wanted to leave it all behind. Spinning around, her dark hair whipping around her, she ran from him - ran from everything she didn't want to believe, wouldn't believe.

But he chased after her and it was a while before she realized that she was running away from something that was a part of her - something that she could never leave behind. It would always be there - it was burned into her.

She ran hard, harder than she ever had in her whole life. But soon, she heard the footsteps pounding after her, catching up with her.

A hand reached out from behind her and placed a firm grasp on her arm, jerking her to a stop and spinning her around. And everything she didn't want to know stared her straight in the face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as he cupped one hand around her face in a gesture of care. Was he capable of caring? He couldn't believe he was touching her when just a few weeks ago he would have sworn he wouldn't come within ten feet of her.

She used her hand to wrench his hand from its touch on her face. "Don't touch me!"

"What's going on?"

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and tricked helplessly down her cheek. "You saw it all."

Yes, he did see it all, but he didn't understand it. He didn't understand any bit of it. He was just as confused as she was, although they were different - he wanted to know the truth while she shied away from it.

"Do you want to talk?" Did he just offer to discuss this with her? He couldn't remember the last time he was so kind. But this wasn't just her problem. It was his problem too, at least the way he saw it. And besides, he wanted answers to the millions of questions inside his mind.

"It's none of your business," she snapped at him bitterly. "Why don't you leave me alone and go screw someone?"

Ouch, that actually hurt. That was all she'd ever think of him, wasn't it? He'd prove her wrong - one day he'd prove her wrong. Wait, why the hell did he even care? He didn't care, he really didn't. Or did he? He hated the way she thought of him - as if he was just another disgusting insect.

"Do you think that she really was your - "

"_No!_" Hermione cried, before he had a chance to finish his question. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear the truth in his question. So she hadn't let him finish it.

He tried to take a different approach, being careful with his words. "What if she _was_ your - "

She slapped him. She hadn't meant it, though. She just didn't want to hear it - and she could have done anything to keep herself from hearing those words.

Draco Malfoy hadn't cared when she had slapped him that first time weeks ago. Okay, so he had cared - but not in that way. He had cared about his reputation and that was about all. But this time, her slap stung and burned into him. It was just another slap, but it was too different.

She regretted doing it and she looked truly sorry. She told herself she would continue in a more contained, and not as loud, voice. The reason why she didn't want to - that she was afraid to - talk in such a voice before was because she was afraid her emotions would take over. When she screamed and belted her words out, they were forceful and gave her a sense of control. But if she talked quietly, then her voice would shake, and she didn't want to break down and cry again. At least not in front of him. She didn't want to show him how weak she could be.

"She never had any children," Hermione said, her voice trembling. That's what Professor McGonagall had said, wasn't it? And the professor knew too well to be wrong. At least that's what Hermione made herself believe.

"Not everything is recorded," Draco said carefully. "My mother always told me that many things escape the Ministry's eyes. That's how everything related to the dark arts almost never reaches the Ministry."

And then Narcissa's words came back to her.

_There are some things that should never be spoken..._

What if this was one of them? No, Hermione told herself. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. She wasn't pretty - she didn't even look like the girl for goodness sakes!

Hermione took a deep breath and assured herself that everything was all right. "My mother is Elizabeth Granger and she _loves_ me."

"Ever wonder why?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow, the arrogance in his voice taking over. "Ever wonder why she loves you so much?"

"Because I was her miracle child!" Hermione replied furiously, almost yelling at him now. "Because she couldn't have any children and - " voice faltered when she realized what she had just said and that she had been lured into his trap.

"'Miracles' only exist to cover the truth," Draco said, staring serenely into her angry eyes. "And the pendant - "

"It doesn't mean anything," she said firmly, although her voice was shaking again.

Without hesitation, she reached both of her hands around the back of her neck and attempted to unfasten the chain from her neck. When the clasp wouldn't come undone, she reached with one hand around to the front of the chain where the pendant sat and tugged it off. The delicate chain broke and came away in her hand.

Hermione looked at the chain and the pendant and almost regretted it. She had had it since she was a child and now she had broken it. The thought didn't last very long.

She hurled the necklace as far as she could, over-twisting her arm so that her muscle stretched painfully. It hit the stone wall somewhere off in the distance and the sound pierced into her heart.

"You can have it!" she cried and the tears began to fall freely now. "Anyone can have it! It doesn't mean anything! It doesn't mean anything."

Without another word, she turned and ran as fast as she could - away from him, away from everything, but most of all, away from the truth.

He watched her retreating back as she sprinted down the corridor and disappeared from his sight. He didn't understand anything. He didn't understand how she felt. But he could tell that it was hurting her.

If it was in any other situation, he would have been more than ecstatic to see Hermione Granger cry. She always acted so confident, so proud of her intelligence, and it annoyed him to no end. Just a few days ago, he would have given anything to see her break down and cry, to finally admit that she wasn't all that. It would have been his greatest triumph. However, when he just did, it wasn't so great anymore. He never imagined it to be this way. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone looking so broken in his life.

God, why the hell was she being so damn stupid? He couldn't understand why she would refuse to _see_ it. Any outsider could see what she was refusing to see. Her stubborn nature was beginning to irritate him. Fine, if that was the way she wanted it, that was fine with him. He didn't care. She could go on believing whatever she wanted for as long as she wanted - he didn't give a damn.

He turned around and walked slowly the other way. Suddenly, the unmistakable glittering of a pendant on a chain caught his eye. He bent down to pick it up and held it up in his hands to see it.

The silver chain didn't lose its luster and the pendant still shone beautifully, but with almost an indescribable sadness.

~*~

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked with concern as he stared into the blank face of his best friend.

Hermione woke from her daze and forced a weak smile onto her face. "I'm fine. Really."

Ron didn't seem convinced. "Was it Snape?"

"No, no," Hermione replied, sighing and running a hand through her hair. "That matter with the test was completely resolved."

"Really? How'd you do it?"

She didn't know if she should tell them the truth. The truth was that she had approached Snape about the test thinking that he'd eat her alive. But to her surprise, he said he fully understood - that Malfoy had told him it was a misunderstanding and he wanted to leave it just at that. Therefore, he was allowing her to retake the test.

She didn't like the fact that Malfoy had talked to Snape about it. Now she felt like she owed him something and that was the last feeling she ever wanted to feel. She felt like she was in his debt now, and it didn't help the mood that she was already in.

Hermione couldn't tell this to her friends - what would they think if they knew that Malfoy had helped her out? They'd think there was something going on between them and then what if they found about the whole Aurora business? No, she wouldn't have it.

"He says I can retake it." It was the truth - just with some other facts omitted. But she couldn't believe she was lying - no, it was just omitting details - to her best friends. She couldn't remember the last time she'd told them anything other than the truth. She sighed unhappily and her friends noticed.

"Was it - it was Malfoy, again, wasn't it?"

She shook her head. "No. It's nothing."

"Tell us!" Lavender chorused. "You've helped me out so much this year. Please, let me help you too. Tell me what's wrong."

"Don't worry about me," Hermione said, placing her head down on the table.

"Hermione," Lavender stressed, "you always told me to be strong for myself. And now I'm telling you to be strong for yourself."

"Tell us what it is," Harry said, placing his hand over hers. "We promise we won't tease you a bit."

"No," Hermione replied softly. "It's nothing. I've just been having a bit of trouble, that's all."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me, it's that essay again, isn't it? I've found plenty of information on Lily - but that's probably because she was Head Girl. She was famous."

Hermione wanted to tell him to shut up. She wanted to tell him everything that McGonagall had told her. Damn, it was too tempting. But she couldn't tell. Professor McGonagall had trusted her with this. She had to keep her mouth shut. But damn, it was so hard. It was so damn hard.

But wait, why did she feel the need to tell Ron off anyway? Had she _wanted_ to try to defend Aurora? No, she thought stubbornly to herself. Why the hell would she try to defend someone who didn't mean a thing to her? And yes, Aurora didn't mean a thing to her - not a thing at all.

"You're right," she said, lifting her head off the table and staring him straight in the eye. "Lily was a wonderful person. She loved her son."

"Doesn't everybody love their child?" Harry asked absent-mindedly.

Hermione looked down and tried to pretend that his comment didn't affect her. "Unfortunately not."

"You sound depressed," Ron said, making a face. "I'm sorry for rubbing in the fact that I can find a lot more information than you can."

"Is that it?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione. "Still can't find anything?"

There was a big sigh and her friends could tell that there was something beyond the essay that bothered their friend. Hermione shook her head sadly and seemed to stare past them into infinity.

"I've found too much."

Hermione stood up from her seat and left the Great Hall, leaving her friends staring after her and bewildered by her words.

~*~

She was just wandering aimlessly around the halls of Hogwarts, trying to get her mind cleared from all thoughts.

She asked herself one question - what if it was true? What if she really wasn't Hermione Granger? No, no, she wouldn't think about that. She wouldn't believe it.

And she wondered how she would be able to finish her essay now. She didn't want to look at another picture of Aurora ever again. She didn't want to know anything about the woman. She didn't want to have anything to do with her.

But then how would she finish the essay for Binns? Would she be willing to accept a bad mark? No, she wouldn't - she wouldn't do anything of the sort. She would finish the essay even if it killed her.

She didn't believe anything about anything anymore. The pendant - well, that was just a coincidence. Billions of people around the world probably had the same pendant and there was nothing special about hers.

She had had it for as long as she could remember. And it always seemed to protect her with some invisible magical charm. She couldn't describe the actual feeling. It had been a present from her parents, she had always assumed.

Her parents loved her so much. How could she doubt that they were not her own? Her mother would probably laugh at her if she suggested that they were not her real parents. Her parents loved her too much for her to be anyone but their real daughter.

They had always given her anything she could possibly want - they had succumbed to every request she made. Sometimes it even surprised her how willingly they gave her everything. They wanted to keep her happy forever.

She never understood why they always spoiled her so much. During grade school, she'd hear complaints from lots of students in her class about how their parents wouldn't give them anything. She always thought the reason why she got everything was because her parents could afford it.

They never gave her anything that was less than the best. If she wanted new book they would go and buy her the best edition of the book and in some cases, buy her every different edition of the book while other parents might buy their children secondhand copies instead. If she wanted a new television, her parents would buy her the best brand, the newest and best in the stores.

They wanted the best for her - there was never a "no." The only thing that her parents didn't like though, was when she left for Hogwarts every year. They said they didn't like how she would have to leave them for almost a year. They said the summer wasn't enough time to spend with their only daughter.

It almost seemed like they didn't ever want her to leave them, ever. They wanted to keep her around forever. Keep her as a child forever so they would always have her there with them. They were afraid she would leave them one day and never come back, Hermione realized. For what reason she never knew and never pursued.

She hadn't ever noticed it before, but now she did. She realized how scared they were all the time. When she was six years old she said she wanted to go to Africa and be a doctor there to help all the sick people and her parents had practically a heart attack. She hadn't known it then, but now she knew it was because they were scared - they were scared to lose her. And she didn't know why. What kind of parents would be scared that their child might leave them? What kind of parents would think that? What kind of child would leave her parents?

And then when she had received her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, her parents had been surprised, yes, but were unusually calm about it. There had been no lineage of magic blood in her family before her.

She found this all to be quite strange. What reason had her parents to think that she would leave them? That was something that she would never do - they had raised her and brought her up and loved her. She loved them.

And she knew exactly why. She knew what caused their fear of losing their daughter. She knew everything now. But she wished she didn't. She wished that that name had never come out of the hat.

And she couldn't deny it any longer - she had to think about it. Why had that name picked her? Was it just a mere coincidence? Yes, she had told herself. Aurora Riviera had nothing to do with her - nothing at all. But she couldn't deny the connections any longer - she couldn't let herself be blinded forever.

Everything she had believed in, everything she had known was the truth, she realized, was all a lie. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She didn't know how to feel anymore. Through the past few days, she had gone through more emotions than most people did in their whole life.

She told herself that she had to admit it - she had to see the truth. Taking a deep breath she forced herself to see it.

Aurora Riviera is my mum, she forced herself to think. There, she had done it. She had finally done it.

And then everything, every emotion encompassed her. She didn't know how to feel or what to feel. All she knew was that there was something pent up inside her that she couldn't describe. It was just this burning in her soul that controlled her.

Was she supposed to have this sudden newfound love for the woman? The woman who didn't want me, Hermione thought bitterly. She could never respect that woman. Never, never, ever.

Her mother was Elizabeth Granger - the woman who had brought her up and cared for her and loved her. The woman who had loved her through everything. The woman who had cared for every scrape she had gotten from climbing trees. The woman who had taught her to read, to love books. The woman who had encouraged her through every step of life. The woman who Hermione knew would always be there for her no matter what.

Aurora was _nothing_ compared to this strong woman.

Yet Hermione couldn't forget the young woman's cherished smiles. The happiness she saw in her eyes. The love that she saw in her eyes in the photograph where she was holding her young infant. The way her arms were wrapped with love around the small child. The way that the child smiled so joyously in her mother's arms.

Hermione wondered if she could ever smile that way again.

She thought about the other photograph in the alumni book. That was the woman who had given up the title of Head Girl. The woman who would later give up her child. What kind of a woman was this?

Hermione didn't want to know. She didn't. But she knew that she had to know.

She didn't even realize where her wandering steps had led her until she was already there. It was Draco Malfoy's dorm room.

She knew exactly why she was there. She _had_ to finish the essay. She needed the pictures from him. She wanted to find out more. And suddenly it wasn't all about the essay anymore - it was about herself. She had to do it - for herself. She put up a hesitant hand to knock.

The door swung open a moment later and she saw those silver-gray eyes she had tried to avoid the other day. He seemed genuinely surprised that she was here. She had seemed like the kind who wouldn't come within a hundred meters of his dormitory. Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrow and waited for her to speak. He wanted to know what this was all about.

"I want the pictures," she demanded looking completely inanimate.

He had never seen anyone so much in pain in his life and he wanted to help her out. However, he couldn't forget the way she had treated him the other day. She was just too damn stubborn and it bothered him. She had refused his help then, so why should he help her now? "No."

"Give them to me," she said with a cold commanding quality in her voice.

He didn't answer, but merely reached a hand to push close the door. He was going to ignore her. However, she wasn't about to give in so easily. Before the door could shut completely, she put up her hand to stop it.

"I need them," she said, and her eyes pleaded with him, waging a war with his own silver ones. "_Please_."

He couldn't say no. Damn he was turning too soft. "Fine."

He gave in to her, but his voice was still hard and arrogant.

She saw him walk to one side of his room and pick up the large brown duffel bag from the other day. Then he came to the door again.

"Here." He handed it to her.

She nodded her thanks - she didn't think she'd be able to say anything.

"Wait," he said before she could turn around and walk away. Damn his curiosity. "What do you want with them? Have you finally - "

"I've got an essay for Binns I've got to finish," she said, cutting him off.

"The pictures won't write your essay for you," he said, trying to dig.

"I know," she said and then paused hesitantly. "I'm going to Professor McGonagall and see if she can tell me anything."

Draco was surprised at how calm she was - she different than how she had been the other day. Maybe she was just hiding her feelings, he thought.

"I'll come with you," he said, stepping out of the door toward Hermione.

She stepped back. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's my own business." Her voice was cold again.

He sighed. "I told you a long time ago that I was too involved to step out now. It's my business too."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Yes, but it won't kill me."

She didn't reply to that, but simply began to walk away, hoping he'd just leave it at that. However, Draco followed by her side.

"Granger," he said softly, trying to be nice.

She turned around with an annoyed expression on her face. "What?"

"Here," he said, fishing something out of his pocket. It was the chain with the pendant. He took her hand into his and placed the chain into her palm. "I think this belongs to you."

Her mask melted as he pressed the pendant into her palm. He closed her hand around the chain and pendant and patted it. She loved how the cool silver of the chain felt pressed into her palm and how the pendant glowed warmly.

She hadn't meant to throw it the other day and had sorely regretted it afterwards. It was a part of her and when she no longer had it, she didn't feel whole anymore. She held the chain to her heart and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Thanks," she managed to say, smiling gratefully at him.

"I fixed the chain for you," he said. "Put it on."

She nodded and put the chain around her neck, having a difficult time securing the clasp.

"I'll fasten it for you," he said, moving behind her and taking the ends with his hands, replacing hers.

When he had secured the chain, she flipped her hair out from underneath it and nodded her thanks to him.

"It suits you," he said, noticing how the pendant now shimmered so merrily from her neck.

Would she say it? Yes, she would. "It's a part of me."

He stared at her, surprised. "So you've finally admitted it?"

"Yes," Hermione said, and swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the lump in her throat. "I suppose I have."

She took a few uncertain steps forward and then stopped. She turned around slowly and Draco saw the tears in her eyes that were threatening to fall.

"And I don't care about anything else," she said, her face contorting as she let the tears fall. Screw pride. "But I just want to know one thing."

She tried to avert her eyes and bit her lip.

"Did she love me?"

She broke into involuntary sobs as the tears pelted her robes, soiling them with those innocent droplets.

Draco didn't know how to answer. He'd never dealt with anyone so emotional in his life that he didn't what to say. But he did know the answer. "Of course she did."

"That's what I want to believe, but I can't," Hermione said through the sobs that attacked her body.

"Didn't you see the way she held you in that photograph? Didn't you see the way she looked at you?" he asked, knowing that she would recall it. "She loved you so much."

"_Then why did she leave me?_" Hermione yelled angrily as she went to wipe the tears with her sleeve. "Why the hell didn't she want me?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps she had her troubles."

Hermione shook her head sadly as she felt her legs go numb. "What kind of a mother would do that to her child?"

When there was no answer from Draco, she continued. "Did she think I was too ugly? Did she think, 'Oh, look how hideous she is, what would people think of me if they knew she was my daughter?'"

He reached out and grabbed her arm, and then silently questioned his sudden action. "No. You're wrong. I've never seen a mother love her child so much as the mother I saw in the photograph the other day."

She emitted a low, bitter chuckle. "I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe anything of her."

Her chuckles quieted to sobs again as she buried her face in one hand.

"I don't even know what to believe anymore. Who the bloody hell am I? I can't be just Hermione Granger again. Not anymore."

"Why not?" he asked absently.

"Because I'm _not_ Hermione Granger! I'm someone else. I'm someone who I don't know! I'm someone who I don't want to be!"

"You are whom you choose to be," he said, and she realized it was probably the most intelligent thing she'd ever heard him say. In some ways it gave her confidence. She'd never thought she'd see the day when something Draco Malfoy said would give her so much...comfort.

Yes, she was still Hermione Granger. She was going to be Hermione Granger no matter what. Forever.

"I don't even know what to believe anymore." Hermione looked completely crestfallen and sighed. "But, you're right. I _am_ still Hermione Granger," she said with renewed confidence. "My mum named me Hermione. She said she'd always liked the name."

"I have one mother," Draco said. "But you - you have two mothers."

"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head stubbornly. "I only have one real mum and her name is Elizabeth Granger."

"And what about Aurora Riviera?"

"I have no respect for her. I can't respect a woman who never loved me or cared for me."

"You might be wrong about her," he suggested.

"I'm not. I will never think of her as anything other than a history assignment. She is nothing more than that. She doesn't deserve my respect. A woman - no, a _girl_ - like that doesn't deserve anything from me."

"That's not exactly a kind thing to say," Draco said, looking at her sternly.

Hermione glared at him. "What do you know about being kind?"

He ignored her and ventured into a new topic. "So are you going to write the rest of the essay pretending that you have no connection whatsoever to her?"

"Actually," Hermione said, taking a deep breath, "I-I want to meet her - I want to meet Aurora Riviera."

He stared blankly at her. "You want to _what?_ You don't even know where she is now."

"That's why I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall," Hermione explained. "She's bound to know something about her whereabouts."

"Ah, I see," Draco said, nodding.

"I don't want anything from her. I just want to meet her - see what kind of a person she is."

"So you want an explanation?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, truly unsure. "I don't know if I _want_ to know."

Soon, they reached the Transfiguration classroom and the two of them halted at the door. Hermione straightened her robes and tied her hair up.

"Do my eyes look red?" she asked Draco. "I don't want her to think I've been crying or anything."

He shook his head. "No, you look fine."

"I'm kind of nervous," she said, exhaling deeply.

"Don't be. I'll wait out here for you."

"Yes, and eavesdrop on me, won't you?" she teased.

She couldn't believe she was talking _normally_ to Draco Malfoy - that she had been for the past few days. It had taken her until now to realize it. God, she still couldn't believe it. Just a few weeks ago, he had been the enemy. Not saying that he wasn't anymore, but it seemed like something had changed. Here she was having a normal conversation with Malfoy. Was she going crazy?

No, she wasn't. She and Draco Malfoy were speaking on normal terms. No insults thrown here and there. No sneers or arrogant snorts.

He knew too much. He knew too much about her. She couldn't believe that her worst enemy in the world knew the most terrible secret in her life. In normal circumstances, it should have been Harry and Ron in his place. But it just didn't work out that way. And now it was too late to get rid of him - much too late.

Not surprisingly, Draco Malfoy was thinking the exact same thing. He couldn't believe that he could be talking to this...mudblood. What shame. And it didn't even matter if Aurora Riviera really was her mother. She was brought up as a mudblood, and therefore would be one for the rest of her life. Once a mudblood, always a mudblood.

What would people think if they caught him talking to her? He cringed at the thought of his reputation. He'd be ruined.

But still, he was involved in this, and if it hadn't been for him breaking the frame, Hermione wouldn't have known anything. It was his fault. He didn't even know why he cared so much, but just that he did. He had been the catalyst to all the pain and confusion she was going through. And so he needed to support her the rest of the way, no matter how far the path was. It didn't look like it, but Draco Malfoy was actually _very_ noble.

And besides, she wasn't half as bad as he thought she'd be. She was actually kind of interesting, he realized. There was too much mystery about her past and he was curious to know all of it. And her eyes, he thought, frowning. He wanted to know about that too.

Punching his arm playfully, and stirring his thoughts, Hermione turned the brass knob on the door and stepped in.

~*~

"Miss Granger?" said Professor McGonagall, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione hurried to the front of the professor's desk. "I'm sorry, professor, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions?"

"Ah," she said, "you've caught me at the perfect time - I was just done grading the second years' papers. Pull over a chair and sit and we can talk."

Nodding, Hermione followed her orders and came back with a chair.

"So is this about the essay again?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Just a few more questions because the essay needs to be long and I haven't had any information besides what you told me last time."

"All right," the professor said, leaning into the back of her chair.

"When was her birthday and where was she born?" Hermione said glancing down at the list of questions she had prepared.

The professor shook her head. "I don't know -I don't know the small details."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking fairly disappointed.

"Anything else?"

"Dean mentioned that he was going to ask Dumbledore's permission to visit his alumni," she said, licking her lips slowly. "And I was wondering if I could do the same."

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, with what seemed like confusion. "You mean...?"

"I mean," Hermione said slowly, taking a deep breath, "do you think you could give me her address or help me find it?"

The professor looked perfectly started and her mouth was ajar. It took her a while to recover. "You mean, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" asked Hermione, wrinkling her eyebrows and staring at the professor.

Professor McGonagall stared at Hermione with shock for a moment, almost as if she was trying to calculate her thoughts, and then sighed deeply.

"Aurora Riviera died sixteen years ago."

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Yeah, as I said, nothing really happens in the chapter except for Hermione finds out that Aurora is dead (which all of you knew anyway, but Hermione didn't). It's seems kind of boring right now, but it should get more interesting later on as the plot unravels. Well, thanks for reading it. If you have time, drop a line. Have a good day, ciao!


	8. Chapter 8

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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A/N: Sorry I didn't update for so long - I had this killer English paper due and I had to study for my finals (Ugh!). But now that's all over except I have tons of AP work to do over the summer. Anyhow, this chapter doesn't really tell you anything new. I'm still developing the plot. It's all very predictable and rather dull. Next chapter will get more interesting though, at least I think so.

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Thanks to my reviewers: Dreaming One, Tainted Black, avri, Jen-Jen, BlueBird, ..., Nefer Tawa, lucy, Kou Shun'u, Katieshaz, nicole, Dragon Bad Faith, HarryPotterWanter, Marigold, cherie, KaimooGoldfish, White Raven, Deese-Rouge-Cheveux, HeatherMalfoy, Dragonfires, Manuela, Aranami, dan_lover, Yousei Kaijou, me, myself, and I, tom4eva, zali, Deimos, DevilPrincess, girl who forgot her Fanfiction.net password, Amy, aku-neko, pink-perk-2007, AlyBaby, Jules, Elfmoon87, FairyFloss, Magical Magic, sum1, Lela, Cutiepie99, lexi, ashlyeanne, and anyone I might have missed.

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Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Eight

"Aurora Riviera died sixteen years ago."

Hermione felt her insides freeze as the words slowly sunk in. She was dead? After all of this time, she was dead? She couldn't believe it. If it was true then it meant -

"I thought you would have known," Professor McGonagall said, interrupting Hermione's thoughts and regarding her with concern. "I hope you're not too disappointed."

Dead. Gone. Dead. The words drummed into Hermione's mind and she battled to grasp their meaning. Dead? Gone. Buried. Six feet under. Hermione took a deep breath, although trying to be discreet and fought for self-control. She steadied herself and gulped, hoping that she didn't look too disturbed. After all, she didn't want the professor to suspect anything.

"How - when - ?" It came out as an intent breathless whisper.

"Sixteen years ago, I do believe," came the reply with an added sigh. "So many of my young graduated students died around that time. It was a terrible time for all of us in the wizarding world."

Hermione knew what the professor was referring to - she was talking about the Dark Lord's reign of terror. Did that mean - ? Taking a deep breath, she asked her next question. "Was it - " she paused slightly, "You-Know-who?"

The professor frowned and searched her memory. "I'm not quite sure if he was indeed connected with her death. They found her body in a small cottage in the Enchanted Forest."

"Cottage?" Hermione asked, as she remembered the exact details of the photograph. "Near a waterfall?"

"I'm afraid I don't know," Professor McGonagall answered, wondering, although not questioning, why Hermione had brought up the subject of a waterfall.

Hermione nodded to herself, noticing how rapidly her heart was beating. Inhaling deeply and plastering a very constrained smile, she rose from her seat, her legs feeling numb. "Thank you, Professor."

Without another word, she moved quickly to the door, not in the mood to care whether such a sudden action would be considered rude by the professor. As her hand reached the doorknob, she hesitated. Before turning it she had one more pressing question that she wanted to be answered. Spinning around, she looked directly at the professor.

"Do you remember exactly when she died?"

Professor McGonagall looked startled at her sudden outburst. "I fail to see how I am so forgetful about important events while I remember random details about other things. In fact, I _do_ remember the date. It was in September."

"September?" Hermione asked curiously, as something nagged at a hidden corner in her mind. Somehow, that month seemed so familiar for some reason. September was the month she left for Hogwarts every year. September was - 

"Yes, yes. September 19th, if I remember correctly."

And then it hit her why she knew that month - that date - so well. It was her birth date.

"September 19th..." those two words slipped softly from her mouth as she gripped the doorknob so tightly that her knuckles turned a deathly white color, and turned it. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even tell the professor good-bye, but merely stepped out of the classroom without another care.

As she closed the door gently behind her, she saw a tall figure approach her from the side in her peripheral vision. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. Suddenly, the sorrow she felt was replaced by rage, by anger, as she tried to piece everything together.

"Don't talk to me," she said coldly, before he could get any words out. "I don't want to talk to you."

And then, as an afterthought, and quite a bit warmer: "I need some time to think things over."

Hermione hurried down the corridor and out of sight before he could come to his senses. He didn't blame her for being like this. If it was the other way around, and he had found out after all these years that he was a mudblood - he'd probably feel the same way. In fact, he'd probably feel worse. He didn't understand why she'd feel so terrible about finding out that she was - okay, well, he'd admit it - a pureblood. So maybe she wasn't a pureblood. Maybe she was only a half-blood - it was still better than being a filthy, no good mudblood.

In his opinion, she should have been proud of finding out that she wasn't a mudblood. He didn't understand why exactly she seemed so peeved about it. _Everybody_ who wasn't a pureblood wanted to be a pureblood like him - Draco Malfoy. In fact, every wizard in the whole damn school probably wanted to _be_ him. But Hermione had acted as if that was the last thing she'd ever wanted - like she actually _enjoyed_ being a mudblood and would rather die than find out she had wizarding blood in her.

Of course he'd heard everything they said in the Transfiguration classroom. The Riviera girl was dead and apparently Hermione wasn't too happy about it. From what Hermione had said, it seemed like she didn't even want to know the woman - whom she regarded with much disrespect. Why the news of her death affected her so much was beyond him. Perhaps she had been looking forward to finding more about her parentage and now her chance was gone. That was about all he could interpret.

He craved for more information - he wanted to find out exactly what was going on - the history of Aurora Riviera and anything else he could find on the way. He wanted the knowledge, wanted to be one step ahead of Granger, and there was only one way he'd be able to do it. 

He'd write a letter - yes, that was the perfect idea. He'd write a letter to that dolt that owned the Dark Arts shop in Knockturn Alley. What was the place called again? Oh yes, Borgin and Burkes. And considering they had every little piece of information about the Dark Arts, Dark Magic, and Slytherins, Draco was sure he'd be able to dig something out of the owner. What was his name again? Oh right, Borgin. That thick-headed bloke who worshipped his father. He'd do anything to get on the good side of the Malfoy family - and Draco Malfoy was just about to give him that chance.

~*~

Hermione slammed the portrait shut with such force that she was sure that it had caused a big enough racket that students were probably gathering in front of it, being as nosy as they were, to see what was going on. It would be an understatement to say that she didn't care. She didn't care what they thought of her anymore. The years of stressing over essays and potions had all magically evaporated. Her marks didn't matter any more - nothing mattered, in fact.

She wandered into her room in a daze and plopped down on the soft bed, the mattress conforming to her as she fell upon it. Lying spread-eagled on her fluffy gold sheets and watching the silky drapes of the canopy flutter restlessly in the breeze from the open window, she let her mind wander.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Those words hit her with full force now. They taunted her - crept into the deepest chambers of her heart and filled her with a sorrow that she hadn't expected to have. She had wronged her own mother, and the realization caused a fresh pang of grief within her.

She remembered what she had said - that she couldn't ever care for this woman, that she couldn't ever feel anything for this woman - the woman who sources claimed to be her mother. To Hermione, she had been an object, an animal, just a name - someone, something that she wouldn't ever care about. She didn't know how wrong she could be.

Perhaps that was the reason why she had told Draco off coldly. She didn't want him to see how wrong she could be. She'd always been right, _always_. Hermione had told Draco she hated that woman who gave birth to her and could never feel anything but loathing towards her. But now, she knew she was wrong, taking a sufficient blow to her pride. She was wrong about Aurora. Aurora hadn't given her up - she had _died_. Nobody could help dying, could they? It definitely wasn't her fault. Guilt crept into Hermione as she thought of this.

Maybe Aurora did love her once. Yes, she _had_ to have. Hermione's hand snaked down the side of the bed, reaching into her book bag to fish out the picture she was looking for. She shaky hands, she held it up above her and gazed at it.

She gently ran her finger down the photograph and traced the face that she now knew as her mother's. In the picture, she looked so real, so full of life. She ran her finger along Aurora's face almost as if she was trying to reach out for her.

Hermione was sorry that she had never gotten to know this woman. If she died sixteen years ago, did that mean that she had been able to be with her child for a year? Hermione closed her eyes and searched her memory, hoping to find any clue - anything about Aurora. Anything about a woman with beautiful raven hair and deep blue eyes. There was nothing.

All she could remember was a woman with the silky blonde hair that she loved to run her fingers through when she was young. It was the same woman who read to her before bedtime at night, spawning her interests in books. It was the woman who had been there always to comfort her, love her, guide her, encourage her. That was the only woman she could remember.

Yet Hermione couldn't forget the intense blue eyes of the dark haired beauty she had so recently grown to know. She wondered if Aurora was somewhere up there, watching over her. Would she be able to recognize her own daughter? Did she know that Hermione was somewhere in the world, thinking of her?

If Aurora was still alive, who would Hermione have chosen? The mother who had given birth to her or the mother who had brought her up? The answer came fast - of course she'd stay with her mother - Elizabeth Granger. There wasn't anyone in the world she loved more. She felt terrible for her decision though, terrible for even thinking about it. It was unfair, she knew, to the deceased woman who had once loved her.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow, staining it with tears.

_Oh mother_, she thought through the quiet sobs, _I wish I could have had the chance to love you._

~*~

"Longbottom," came the nasal voice of the Gryffindors' least favourite teacher as he circulated around the dungeons, glancing over students' shoulders to see the consistency of their potions.

Neville, who went completely rigid with fear, looked over at his fellow Gryffindors for support. As usual, most sympathized with him while giving Snape a venomous glare behind his back.

"Your draught is far too glutinous," he said with a sneer glaring down at the shaking boy. "I specifically instructed you to add powdered the Hethia herb, _not_, what I suspect you've added, the Gerber weed. _Seven years_ at the finest wizarding institute in the world and you _still_ can't tell the difference between the two. You can be sure that I will inform the Headmaster of this and perhaps begin the process of your disenrollment."

Snape took one last look at Neville and then swept out of the room, his billowing cloak stirring up the dust in the dungeons, causing many students to cough. Several Gryffindors approached Neville intermittently and tried to console the frightened boy. After seven years under Professor Snape's instruction, Neville was still as vulnerable as ever. Apparently, he had yet to learn to ignore the professor's snide remarks.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, approaching the short, plump boy. "I should have been watching what you were putting in the cauldron and brought it to your attention if you accidentally did something wrong, but I've been sort of - "

"It's okay, Hermione," Neville replied, looking down at his shoes. "By now, I should know more than to get ingredients mixed up. Snape's right - I'm just failure."

"Neville," she said, shaking her head slowly. "You're _not_ a failure. You're brave - after all, the Sorting Hat did put you in Gryffindor, didn't it? And you know so much about Herbology - Professor Sprout absolutely adores you!"

"Do you really think so?" Neville said, lifting up his face and looking her directly in her eyes.

"Of course, Neville. I think you're brilliant."

Neville took a long, deep breath. "I feel like I'm letting my whole family down. I'm an insult to the family name. Gran was the only one who thought I'd ever become anything, and even now she's having doubts."

"I'm sorry, Neville, but you shouldn't think that way. I know that you're important and that you'll become someone important and influential someday, despite what you think," Hermione said, trying to comfort him. "Look, you can do anything you want to do, and don't let anyone convince you otherwise. You did so well on the O.W.L.s for Potions that Snape _had_ to let you into this N.E.W.T.s class, remember?"

Neville turned away. "That's because I was set on becoming an Auror - to be like my parents. I just want to live up to them, that's all." 

"And you're so good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You've improved tremendously over the years. You're better than almost all of our year at many subjects. Don't listen to Snape - he just wants to get to you. You'll become a great Auror and you'll make your family proud," Hermione said, believing every word that she was telling Neville. 

"My mum and dad - they were both prefects you know. Pity that they had someone like me. Anyhow, they're both dead now," he shrugged and pretended that it was no big deal. "Well, as good as dead, anyhow."

"I know how you feel," Hermione said absentmindedly.

"You still have both your mum and your dad, don't you, Hermione? How can you know how it feels?" He said, pulling away from her.

Hermione turned away and stared at the stone floor of the dungeon. "Neville, there are some things that you will never understand."

Professor Snape chose that exact moment to re-enter the dungeons. In Hermione's opinion, he didn't look quite too happy. In fact, he was probably in one of his more foul moods. Without a word to anyone, he walked briskly over to his desk at the front of the dungeons and seated himself. He grabbed a quill and dipped it into a jar of black ink, hesitating before letting it flow on the yellow parchment in front of him. He looked up from it and scanned the class.

"Take one of the vials in the cupboards in the back and fill it with the Utopian Draught you have created. I will be checking the potency of these to evaluate your potion skills," he snarled, "_or lack thereof_." He enunciated his last words carefully, his gaze landing upon none other than Neville Longbottom.

Hermione was one of the last to arrive at the cupboard and the selection of vials was greatly reduced. However, she was able to pick out a pretty, transparent pastel blue colored one and returned to her cauldron. She dipped the ladle into the cauldron and lifted it up a moment later, wrinkling her nose at the strong, unpleasant odor of the green liquid. Being careful because the vial was made of glass, she tipped the ladle and began slowly pouring the liquid into the vial. After her mission was completed, she set the vial upon her desk and turned to put the half-full ladle back into the cauldron.

A piercing scream rose in the dungeon and she felt herself being pushed forward onto the ground. In an effort to catch herself, she let go of the ladle that was still in her hand, and immediately regretted it when it fell to the ground and the green liquid formed into a puddle at the base of her cauldron.

Turning around to see what had caused the commotion, she saw that a large black spider was crawling around in Pansy's blonde hair. Piecing the puzzle together, she figured that Pansy probably was the one who screamed and in panic, had accidentally knocked her over, spilling the Utopian Draught.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron, who was in the other side of the dungeon, shudder with disgust. She knew that out all of the creatures in the world, Ron hated spiders the most. Her gaze turned back to Pansy as the helpless girl screamed and screamed, trying to fling the spider from her lacy robes. Her attempts were futile - it was obvious that the spider was caught between the frilly laces and netting of her robe and couldn't leave even if it wanted to.

Served her right, Hermione thought, for breaking the Hogwarts dress code. Students were required to wear only black robes, but apparently Pansy thought she qualified as an exception.

Finally, Draco Malfoy stepped up from the back of the dungeon, drew a wand from his robes and whispered, "Removiado!"

With a small pop, the spider disappeared and Pansy looked as though she was about to burst into tears. Sniffling loudly, she grabbed onto Draco's arm, much to Hermione's disgust, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The bell startled the class, although not unpleasantly, as it gave them a reason to leave the dungeons. Sighing, Hermione turned back to the mess on the floor. She saw Harry and Ron make their way over to her from a distant corner in the dungeon.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Ron asked, holding his nose from the odor of the potion.

"No, it's okay. I'll catch up with the two of you later after I clean this up," she said, wiping up the draught with a worn rag.

The two boys shrugged and then left the dungeon, leaving only Hermione and Professor Snape. As she wiped the floor, Hermione realized exactly how quiet the room had become and the silence was eerie. She worked quicker, hoping to get out of there as fast as she could.

"Miss Granger, trying to sneak into my cupboards again?" came Professor Snape's voice from behind her, catching her off guard.

Hermione jumped at the sound, but quickly recovered. "No, Professor, I was just cleaning up a spill."

The professor sneered at Hermione and reached out toward her book bag. "Then I'm sure I wouldn't find anything...incriminating...if I looked inside your book bag, now, would I?"

As an instinct, Hermione reached out to grab for her book bag just as Professor Snape did the same and the bag ripped open down the middle, spilling the contents. Hermionie wasn't worried, of course, since she hadn't stolen anything from his private cupboards. She was peeved, however, since this meant that she had to pick up the books and scraps of paper off the ground and would delay her exit from the dungeons.

Scanning and finding no illegal ingredients in her bag, Snape threw her a menacing look as a cover for his apparent disappointment and stepped past her to return to his desk. However, something caught his eye as he did so. Turning back, he leaned down and picked up a photograph that had slipped from Hermione's book bag. When Hermione realized what it was, she had half a notion to rip it from his hand and take off from the dungeons. That would cost the Gryffindor House about two hundred points, so she didn't want to risk it.

Hermione thought that he would probably throw some insults or lame remarks at her, and was surprised to see that he froze when he saw the photograph and some sort of realization dawned on him. However, his reaction didn't last long.

"Aurora Riviera," he said, with the same nasty tone of voice he always possessed. "How interesting."

How did he know her? Hermione figured that she might as well try to dig some information from him. "Did you know her?"

"Hmm," he replied, wearing a very ugly half-grin on his face. "In fact I knew her very well. She was in my year at Hogwarts."

Hermione stared at him, hoping he would continue and reveal something new about this woman that she was dying to know more about.

"Every boy wanted her, every girl wanted to be her. Need I say anything else?" he said, throwing the picture back into her book bag. "Your new idol now? Miss Granger, perhaps you should know that no amount of looking at her picture will do _you_ any good," he said, looking at her from head to toe with disgust.

Professor Snape returned to his desk, leaving Hermione staring after him. Her mind ignored his last insult. There were a billion questions she wanted to ask him, but her desire of leaving the dungeons overpowered the want of answered questions. She grabbed her book bag and walked briskly towards the entrance to the dungeons. However, she hesitated at the door, almost as if she knew the professor was going to say something. And she was right.

"She was great person," the professor said, and Hermione was surprised to find no hint of sarcasm in his voice at all. He sounded almost...friendly.

She nodded and turned to step out the door when his next words struck her.

"Too bad she had to turn to the Dark Side."

~*~

_No_, Hermione thought as she hurried through the corridor, _it couldn't be._

Dark Side? Aurora Riviera on the Dark Side? Was she - no she couldn't be, she just couldn't be.

There was only one place Hermione could go for answers and that was the library. Forgetting completely about her promise to meet up with Harry and Ron, she made her way to the fifth floor where the Hogwarts library was.

Upon entering, she threw her books onto the nearest table she could find and combed the shelves of any books that could show her the truth. Scanning the shelves, she pulled out a few books she thought that might be helpful: _Death Eaters - The Reign Of Terror, The Dark Lord And The Death Eaters, Death Eaters And Their Influence On Society, The Rise Of The Dark Arts._

She brought the thick, dusty books to her table and stacked them on top of each other. Picking a random book, she opened it and searched for anything that might clue her in on some information about Aurora. At last, she found a list of names of all the Death Eaters on file, although most of them had already "repented" of their evil doings and claimed loyalty to the ministry.

It was arranged in alphabetical order according to last names, and Hermione scanned the page for any mentionings of "Riviera." Much to her relief, she found nothing. Perhaps Snape had been wrong about her. Perhaps he was thinking of someone else.

Hermione decided to double check so she flipped to the back of the book and looked for "Aurora" and "Riviera" in the index. There was still nothing, and she hoped that would hold true for the other books too. She put the first book aside and flipped open another, and another, and then the last one. Still nothing.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and realized how fast her heart was beating. As her heart rate slowed and Hermione calmed down a bit, she figured that Snape, being the evil twit he was, must have tricked her. Feeling embarrassed that she had actually believed the man, a pink tinge appeared on her cheeks. However, that soon vanished when she remembered something that someone else had said when she first entered Hogwarts. What was it again? Something about how there weren't any Slytherins who didn't go bad.

She dismissed the thought. After all, Professor Snape was a Slytherin, wasn't he? And he didn't go bad. Well, although he was a Death Eater at one point in his life, and most students hated him, he was on the Light Side. Perhaps there were other Slytherins who didn't follow the Dark Lord either. Hermione was sure Aurora was one of those.

She let herself relax again before another thought winded its way through her mind. Gasping at the thought of it, she jumped up from her seat and left to search for Harry. She had questions to ask him.

~*~

"Harry!" Hermione practically shouted as she entered the Gryffindor common room. Her eyes searched around the warm, cozy place for a sign of her friend.

"Hermione!" Harry said, waving at her and smiling delightfully.

Hermione swallowed and hurried over to the armchair where he was seated, a big Transfiguration textbook open in his lap. She plopped down on a large, cushiony couch near his armchair and tried to regain her breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

"Harry, I really need your help," she said, her eyes sincere.

When Harry saw her serious expression, he sat up, leaned towards her, and prepared to listen like a good friend.

"In fourth year, during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament," she said, and immediately felt bad as she saw him cringe. She knew it was it least favourite subject and mentioning it always opened old wounds. "You said you saw You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, right?"

Harry nodded and looked away. "Hermione, you know I don't like to talk about this."

"I know, I know," she said, placing her hand over his. "But I really need this. I really do."

When he didn't answer, she continued.

"You told Ron and me about it and I remember you said that the Dark Lord said that three of the Death Eaters died in his service, right?"

"Yes, why?"

Hermione gulped. "Harry, he said three died. And from what Sirius told us in fourth year, we know that one of them was Rosier, and another was Wilkes."

"And that has to do with everything because - ?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"That's only two Death Eaters," Hermione said, drawing up her own conclusion, and feeling a lump in her throat.

"Yes, so?"

Hermione swallowed hard and hesitated before asking her next question.

"Who was the last one?"

Harry shrugged and sunk back into the armchair. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes, it does, Harry. More than you can imagine."

"Look, Hermione, I really don't know. Have you tried looking in the library?"

"I was just there. The only other Death Eater confirmed dead is Barty Crouch Jr., you know, the fake Moody from fourth year."

Harry was beginning to catch on now, although he still didn't know Hermione's purpose. "But Voldemort said that three of his Death Eaters were dead _before_ Barty Crouch died from the kiss or was even found out yet."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed. "I checked the Death Eater records, and the only three dead are Rosier, Wilkes, and Crouch, but Crouch doesn't count because he was still alive when You-Know-Who said that three of his Death Eaters were dead."

"Are you sure there were any other dead Death Eaters on the list."

"I'm positive. You should have learned to trust me by now, Harry. You know I never do things half-ways."

"So this means..."

Hermione looked down and took a deep breath. "I suppose it means that there was another Death Eater out there somewhere that the Ministry never knew of. I wonder who it could have been."

"You really are curious aren't you? I suppose you want to find out who that Death Eater was, report it to the Ministry, and receive an Order of Merlin?" Harry joked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Of course," Hermione replied saracastically. No, that wasn't it. She wanted to find out who it was because that was the only way she could prove to herself that her mother wasn't involved in the Dark Arts. It was the only way she could bring her mind to peace.

~*~

Draco Malfoy sauntered through the halls of Hogwarts with his left arm wrapped around Pansy Parkinson as they made their way back to the Slytherin common room. The students who were gathered in the halls, some from Slytherin and some from other houses, would wave at them or mutter a greeting of some sort.

And as usual, Draco and Pansy, or whomever he was with at the time, would look down upon them and greet them back or wave at them as they passed. In fact, they looked like a king and a queen on some festive holiday, coming into a town full of commoners and waving at them from their carriage.

Draco knew the power and influence he held in the school. Practically the whole student body bowed down to him, with the exception of a few here and there. Harry Potter and his gang were the perfect example of one of these groups of, well, rebellious people. Draco didn't like Potter at all. In fact, he hated him. Although he would never admit it, most of his hate was spawned from jealousy. Potter was always the better seeker, the better captain.

Since first year when the two had began their rivalry in quidditch from Neville Longbottom's Remembrall, Draco had felt like Potter was always a step ahead of him. Not to mention how Madam Hooch told the whole class that his riding position on the broom was wrong. He'd been terribly insulted then, and had even considered asking his father to fire the old woman. However, he opted instead to have his father pay for a private quidditch trainer who would help him rise to success. He hated how Potter was still better than him, no matter how much training he received. Potter always was the faster flyer. Potter always caught the snitch. Potter was always the most loved, showing off that ugly white scar on his forehead. Potter was always - 

Pansy made a whining noise and frowned at him. It wasn't until then that he realized how tightly he was holding on to her. He loosened he arm he had around her and continued his train of thought. And then there was that Weasel. The freckled redhead who practically lived in a thrift shop. They probably didn't even have a vault in Gringotts. After all, what's the point of a vault if you don't have any money to put in it?

They were two floors away from the common room and Draco could feel Pansy's long, manicured nails digging sensuously into the flesh on his back even through the robes he was wearing. As he began to ponder the feeling, he decided that he liked the feeling of nails on flesh much better than having clothing in between.

His mind however, decided to attack its next victim. Potter. Weasley. He counted them off mentally. Who was next in line? Ah, Granger. He flinched a bit at the thought of the name, however Pansy didn't seem to notice. He hadn't talked to that Gryffindor for more than a week since her meeting with Professor McGonagall.

They had almost talked and chatted as if they were good friends and now there was some distance between them. Whenever he passed her in the halls, he would look at her, expecting her to smile at him or make any friendly gesture. However, she never did. The only thing she did do was do duck her head down a little farther, pretending she hadn't seen him and walk past him silently.

Of course he knew why she did this. She was scared of him - scared of what he knew and how much he knew.

_And soon, I will know everything,_ he mused.

As soon as the reply to his owl would come back, which he sure hoped was in the very near future, he would know everything. And then Granger would have to beg him for answers to very one of her pressing questions. He felt an overwhelming surge of power as he thought about this. Oh, what he could do with that power.

Perhaps exchange information for a few small...favors? He immediately recoiled at that thought. They could never have any sort of relationship. Here he was, the son of the wealthiest wizard in Europe, born into one of the most prominent and influential families in the world. She...well, she definitely lacked the proper upbringing that characterized every girl in the Slytherin, or rather, Draco's, world.

They could never become anything, ever. He wondered curiously why he was even thinking about such a thing. It was disgraceful, insulting to his family name. Imagine what his parents would say if he brought a mudblood home. Alright, so what he had already done that. But as far as his mother knew, Hermione Granger was Lavender Brown.

And well, she wasn't exactly a mudblood anymore. He had to give her credit for that. What she was he didn't know. All he knew was that for seven years of his life, the mere thought of her was repulsive. And yet, not more than a week ago, they had been talking and walking together as if they'd been best friends for years. So maybe circumstance did change.

Draco made up his mind that there was no way he would ever pursue anything with her. He chuckled quietly to himself of the lunacy of that idea.

Yet he couldn't help wondering how her nails would feel running across his back, or of her delicious lips pressing into his, or of how soft her skin would feel against his, or of her - 

Draco mentally slapped himself. He couldn't believe he was thinking about her that way. That was...disgusting.

As Draco and Pansy entered into the Slytherin common room, his best friend Gregory Goyle ran up to his side like a rhino through the safari, bulldozing anyone who was in his way.

"Draco," he said, panting, obvious not quite athletic, "Cocoa arrived just a few minutes ago with a whole flock of owls and they left a whole pile of packages for you."

"Where are they now?" Draco asked urgently, leaving Pansy's side, much to her displeasure.

"Snape had us carry it all to your room. He said that the owls probably couldn't get through the locked balcony in your dormitory so they came and dropped everything in the common room," Gregory said slowly, forgetting a few words here and here and always correcting himself.

Satisfying Pansy with a quick but deep kiss, he hastily hurried through a special portrait in the Slytherin common room that magically connected to his private Head Boy quarters.

As he entered his room, he realized why Snape had been so eager for Gregory to remove the whole delivery from the common room and deliver it to his. A quick estimation told Draco that there were probably around twenty large packages centered in a pile in the middle of the lavish green carpet. On the top of the parcels, there was a yellow envelope addressed to him. Without hesitation, Draco grabbed the letter and tore open the envelope, revealing a folded parchment with a matching color.

The torn envelope fluttered to the floor as Draco unfolded the parchment and scanned the letter quickly.

Dear Young Master Malfoy,

I have sent with my owls every book, every artifact I could find that even remotely mentioned the subject you sent in your letter. I am glad I could have been in your service. Please feel free to owl me if you need anything else.

In your service,

Borgins

Casting the letter aside, he reached for the package at the very top. After ripping off the brown wrapping paper, he saw that there were five heavy books. Taking the first one and sitting down at his desk, Draco flipped through it slowly, looking for any mention of something he was looking for.

And he found it.

His silver eyes darted hungrily across the frayed sheets of the old moldy book. As he read, his expression grew from confused to serious and urgent. He'd read enough.

Slamming the book shut and jumping from his seat, he told himself he would read the other materials later, but right now he needed to see Granger. There were some things that she deserved to know.

~*~

"Granger!"

The name rang out through the long, echoing hall.

Hermione whipped around to look behind her and saw to her displeasure Draco Malfoy sprinting hurriedly up to her. She didn't want to talk to him. He knew her deepest, most feared secret. What did he want now with that knowledge? Blackmail her?

But that wasn't all she was worried about. She knew that he thought she was a fool. In fact, she knew she was a fool. She had told him countless time how she felt about Aurora - that the woman didn't deserve respect or much of anything. And now that she knew the truth, she felt so...stupid. She had been falsely accusing a woman who had loved her of doing something terrible. The mere thought of it brought a pink tinge to her cheeks. She was horridly embarrassed about the false conclusion she had jumped to.

That's why she hadn't wanted to talk to him - he was bound only to make her feel worse. She already felt bad enough, like a criminal of some kind.

Hermione sighed and quickly turned back around again, beginning to walk quickly. Maybe Draco would get the clue and just leave her alone for the time being. However, the heavy footsteps behind her continued and they only got increasingly louder and louder.

Hermione decided to turn around again, to face Draco and tell him to leave her alone and perhaps run off before he could say anything else. But as she turned and saw him closing in on her from about thirty feet away, she knew something was amiss.

Her heart stopped when she saw his face. It told her everything she needed to know. A sudden coldness swept over her as she realized that Draco had found out something, and from the looks of it, it was probably something that she didn't want to hear.

No, she didn't want to hear it. No, no, no!

Her mouth open in an "o," she whipped back around again and prepared to take off as fast as she could. She didn't want him to tell her what he knew.

"Granger!"

She stopped in her step, feeling as if her legs were iron weights. She didn't want to be there but she couldn't move a step. What if...what if...She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear anything.

_Oh, God, please don't let him say it..._

Closing her eyes softly, she heard his breathless words behind her.

"Aurora - she was a Death Eater."

~*~

TBC

~*~

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A/N: As I said, this chap really didn't tell you much, just like the last chapter. The next chapter should bring some interesting revelations, though. Please bear with me! Guess what? I'm getting eight adult teeth pulled on June 3, so wish me luck. I think I'll seriously burst out crying during the procedure or something, considering it's me and all. I'm totally non-pain-tolerant. And then I heard from this one lady that she knew someone who got 8 teeth pulled and then DIED. So...if the next chapter doesn't come out in like a month or two then I'm probably dead. All in all, I'm completely TERRIFIED. *bursts into tears*


	9. Chapter 9

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The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

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Rating: PG-13

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WARNING: OoP Spoilers! DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT READ OoP YET AND DO NOT WANT ANY SPOILERS! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK PAST THE DOTTED LINES.

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A/N: Sorry for such a long wait. I had been waiting for book 5 to come out before I wrote any more just so that if book 5 revealed something life-altering, I'd be able to tweak the plot to go along with it. I didn't want to get so far into the story that I wouldn't be able to make alterations and then this story would have to be AU, which I despise, and then I would have to abandon it. I finished writing this on the 24th of June, but I won't post it until...I don't know, I want to give people reasonable time to finish book 5.

Now, about book five...let's all throw rotten tomatoes at JK Rowling! She killed my FAVORITE character.

All right, so book five was pretty lame, wasn't it? I mean, the big "revelation" at the end about the prophecy has been guessed by HP fans so much that it was pretty much settled as a FACT before book 5 even came out. Okay, it was lame, but I still love the Harry Potter books. I thought there was going to be a revelation about Lily Evans? Did I just like not catch that? I mean, besides the fact that she thought James Potter was a jerk?

Alright, so I spent all Saturday morning wondering when my book was gonna get delivered. And then I got it and I read all day and I finished the book. And of course, sirius was dead, but it just didn't click, you know? All through the whole damn book I was thinking/begging/praying "Please don't kill Sirius! Kill ANYONE but Sirius!" And of course, JK Rowling goes and kills Sirius. Just my luck.

So I was in a state of complete shock and denial. I didn't cry or anything. I was completely emotionless and in shock. And I couldn't sleep the whole damn night thinking about poor Sirius. I was thinking the whole time, "No, Sirius isn't dead. Sirius CAN'T be dead. Sirius is alive and well. HE CAN'T BE DEAD," and of course, the constant throbbing in my head declaring "I HATE YOU JK ROWLING!"

And then, the next morning, I wake up, get dressed, and all of a sudden, it CLICKS and I realize that SIRIUS IS DEAD! GONE! FOREVER! And so I completely burst into tears and had a complete breakdown in which I just cried and cried and cried like an idiot. And when I'd "mellowed" down a bit, I tried calling my friend, but then I burst into tears again on the phone, and couldn't even talk/speak/communicate with her because I was crying so badly. Yeah, so I'm an idiot. So _what?_

And then I've been in depression ever since.

Oh yeah, and I went and changed little things in the previous chapters, but you don't have to go and read them - they're really very trivial. I just wanted to get the facts right for any new readers who might start reading this.

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Why Amazon.com is a jerk: too long to explain, but they are jerks.

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Thanks to my reviewers: **HarryPotterWanter, michelline, Serpena, Ankle, Shalemni, Dragon Bad Faith, Marionette, Deimos, Leika Senara, Soronume de Laiguendi, Naoko Ten-ou, babmidnight, Amy O B, delila-malfoy, Alethesea, Magical Magic, PsYcHoJo, Riddle Road, ast*P, PurpleYin, justme, Lucent, ayse, liToewEergUrl, Deese-Rouge-Cheveux, dark-phoenix, Danny, mesmer, AndinaOfRivendell, Li-chan, PoleKat, OnOfaKind92, hockeyslayer, Cute-Kitty, Oo.DrAcOzAnJeL.oO, Ashley, kagie-chan, dracoJAE, RinoaOHeartilly, Krissy, Libby, Death Ringer, mermaid of lost city atlantis, ASH, Volcana, malFunction, cool brat, Trillium, Navy Converse, Hermie13, Slim, a Friend, tjs91989, tainted black, tommygurl **(OMG I LOVE MG!!!!!!! I understood some of it but a lot of it I made a very annoyed friend translate for me, line by line. But that line was my absolute FAVORITE line. I haven't seen Part II yet, but I REALLY want to. I know what happens tho, and I know the place that they go to and I'm going to use that place in this story)**, sillynina, Sarah W., becca, Britanie, The Mental Pixi-stix Faerie, UndomielEvenstar, Slytherinangel922, plumsy321, Marla, Cherry, Katrina, and anyone I might have missed.**

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

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The Seventh Moon

Chapter Nine

"Aurora - she was a Death Eater."

One lone tear made its way down Hermione's cheek as she mustered up all her strength and ran from the truth.

~*~

"Hermione!"

Hermione kept her pace, determined not to turn around, not to face him. After so long was he _still_ chasing after her? Wouldn't he learn, for once, to bugger off? It seemed almost as though he enjoyed this - as if this was his new means of taunting her.

"Hermione!"

Wait, it didn't sound like Malfoy. No, no, this voice was different. It belonged to - 

Hermione dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her already soiled robes and then plastered a delighted smile on her face.

"Harry!" she cried, spinning around and feigning happiness.

"I've found it, Hermione," Harry said as he raced the next few steps to her side. "I've found it."

Hermione was clearly confused. "Found what?"

"Remember, you asked me who was the third Death Eater who died in his service. Well, I've found it." Harry looked quite proud of himself as he declared this.

Hermione's face immediately fell. She hadn't wanted him to know. What would he think now that he knew her alumni was a Death Eater? What if he started drawing up his own conclusions? Well, if he knew the truth already, there was no point keeping anything from him anymore. "So you know."

"Yes," Harry said, "Remember when we were at the Order's headquarters? Remember what Sirius," and here, Harry's face clouded over and he felt a lump in his throat. Nevertheless, he continued, "remember what Sirius told me? His brother was a Death Eater and he was killed."

This was not what Hermione had anticipated. She had thought he knew all about Aurora and was going to demand her tell him everything. And then everything would have been a mess and - 

For once in her life, she was glad that Harry was completely clueless.

"Harry, I wish I was so," she said, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "Don't you think I've thought of this already? From what Sirius," and she was very careful with that name, "said to you, and of course you later told to us, I've gathered that his brother wasn't fully initiated when he died. Didn't he say that Voldemort was the one who ordered his brother's death?"

Harry pondered this for a second. "So you don't think it's him?"

"Voldemort said specifically to you that these were three Death Eaters who died _in his service_ - meaning, probably, that they were the ones he liked a lot - not all of the would-be-Death-Eaters who chickened out that he had murdered," Hermione said slowly, devoid of all feeling.

"Well, then, I s'pose I'll keep looking," Harry said, looking rather disappointed that he hadn't been much help.

"_Don't_," Hermione said on impulse - too quickly and too loudly. She realized her mistake and tried to correct it before his suspicions grew. "Er, I-I mean - you really shouldn't waste your time with such trivial things. It's not that important. It was just something that just sort of, er, popped into my mind."

"It's no problem, actually - "

" - Like the N.E.W.T.s that you should be studying for. You want to be an Auror, don't you? And you know how important Potions is. You should be glad that Snape let you in his N.E.W.T.s class, and you're not even studying for it at all. If he decided to fail you, what would that do to your dreams of being an Auror? And - "

"_All right_," Harry said defeatedly, holding his hand up to quiet her. "I'll do what you say."

Hermione smiled and punched his playfully in the shoulder. "That's because you know I'm _always_ right."

When Harry's face darkened, Hermione knew that she had said the wrong thing.

"I should have listened to you, back in fifth year," he said, his voice quavering, "about Occlumency. I should have listened when you told me not to go to the Department of Mysteries. You're _always_ right," he said, to no one in particular. "If I had listened, then Sirius wouldn't have - "

" _- Harry, stop it!"_ Hermione said firmly, feeling her emotions envelope her. It was still too painful to talk about. "_Please._"

"Yeah, and pretend it never happened? Well - "

"Harry, I'm not pretending that it never happened it's just that - "

" - so Sirius never even existed? Is that what you're pretending?" Harry demanded heatedly.

Hermione, quite furious herself, tried to control her emotions. Sorrow over tragic events, anger and frustration toward Harry for being so...impossible! "It doesn't do to dwell on the past - "

"I'M NOT DWELLING ON THE PAST - " Harry roared.

"_Shut up!_"

There was a very pregnant pause. And then - 

"Well, I've got to get going - so much homework to do, you know," Hermione said, clutching her bookbag tightly, her lips pursed tightly.

Harry scratched his head mechanically. "Yeah, and I-I've got to get to the field. I expect the whole team to be waiting impatiently for me."

"Well, I'll see you later, I s'pose." She couldn't think of anything else to say to her best friend of seven years. She felt so _empty_.

With a nod, Harry turned down the corridor and disappeared from her sight.

_Splendid_, Hermione thought miserably. In the midst of everything that was happening, even her friendships were wavering.

~*~

A large, elegant owl soared through the window into Draco Malfoy's private dorm. It circled in, dropped at letter at Draco's feet and then promptly glided out of the window again, as if it had not been there at all.

Draco Malfoy sighed and picked up the letter. He had recognized the owl, of course. It was his father's business owl. And this letter, no doubt, was from his father, reminding him again of his important role at Hogwarts this year.

Taking the letter into his hands, he ripped apart the envelope and tossed it aside, and unfolded the parchment which lay within it.

Draco,

This, if I remember correctly, is my fourth reminder to you. You, Draco, are in a very high position at Hogwarts and therefore have much influence and power over other students. Use this power to your advantage. 

__

Recruit, recruit, recruit!

You mentioned in your last letter that you might be able to win over a Hufflepuff sixth-year and maybe two younger Ravenclaws. I don't want to hear "might" or "maybe." I want it to be done, signed, sealed. As you might be able to fathom, we are in desperate need of new recruits.

There is only one way we are going to win this war, and that is by having as many wizards on our side as possible. Do not forget anything that I have taught you, Draco. Use your looks, money, charm, any way possible to win over your fellow schoolmates to _our_ side.

Do not disappoint me.

Best wishes,

Lucius

Draco read over the letter with dismay and then resolved to crumple it into a ball and toss it into a distant corner in his room. His father was _so_ annoying - there was no way to describe it. He decided he wouldn't think about it anymore, to save himself undue stress.

Draco plopped down comfortably onto his bed and surveyed the documents that were lying all across his room. Just looking at them made his head ache terribly. What would he find in all these papers and books? Good new, bad news. It was all the same to him either way. Nothing involved him.

It was all about that stupid Granger girl. He was through trying to help her. She didn't seem like she cared - just went around crying all the time. She never thanked him - after _all_ he'd done for her. 

_Stupid bitch_, he thought.

He was the one who was kind enough to take her to his house. He was the one who showed her the chamber full of pictures. It was because of him that she found Aurora was her mother. He did so much for her and he never even received one word of thanks.

And he was so nice to her. He doubted that he had ever been so nice and kind to anyone else in his whole life. Why? Well, for one she'd been crying her heart out, a situation that he didn't know how to deal with. What was he supposed to say to her at times like that? So he'd treated her like a _friend._ He'd almost half-forgotten that she was a mudblood during that time. And she'd done nothing friendly back.

From now on, he decided, they were both on their own. Anything he found, he would keep to himself. Anything that she found - well, he doubted that she would find much. Maybe he'd even find something bad enough that he could use to exploit her with...what an idea. They weren't working together anymore, so what would he care about it?

And he had no idea why he was so interested anyway. He'd always been curious, and the mysterious past of Aurora Riviera intrigued him so. And Hermione's eyes - maybe that had something to do with her birth. Maybe. He would just have to find that out on his own.

Groaning, he sat up and reached for the first book his hands could find. Might as well do some light reading, he thought. He would keep one step ahead of Granger at any cost. Even if it meant dying of boredom and sorting through hours of documents. Preparing to be extremely bored, he sluggishly flipped open the book.

~*~

Hermione retreated to her own dorm room and set her bookbag on her desk. She fell into the soft, cushiony armchair and closed her eyes. The day's events passed before her and she set out to figure out all her thoughts and gather some conclusions.

How did Malfoy know all that he did? Was his word good? Was he simply lying? She wished he was, but somehow she had the feeling that everything he said was true.

She tried to convince herself otherwise. Why the hell was he trying to help her? Maybe he wanted to tell her all these horrible lies about Aurora and hope that she would have a nervous breakdown and have to be shipped out of Hogwarts by the next train. That would suit him well. Hadn't he always wanted her to leave Hogwarts?

But still, she couldn't help thinking how his face looked, how his voice sounded when he told her that Aurora was a Death Eater. He didn't look like he was telling a falsehood. In fact, he sounded completely honest and truthful. Well, the best liars were always the ones who looked honest and innocent, weren't they? And Hermione knew Malfoy would have had plenty of practice.

Sighing deeply she rolled over on her bead and sunk her face into a large pillow. What if Malfoy _was_ telling the truth? Where the hell was he getting all this information? And then the most important question hit her. _What else did he know?_

He certainly had the means, she knew, to find out everything he could possibly want to know about anything in the world. Money, connections - they all worked out perfectly for him. Hermione wondered how much he knew about her already. Perhaps he was sitting down in his own quarters reading away about every little detail about Aurora and her daughter - namely, Hermione. She hoped that he wasn't that many steps ahead of her. After all, he wasn't stupid for nothing. Then again, she thought, stupid people could surprise you once in a while.

And then another question hit her. What would he do with all the knowledge he had? Would he try to blackmail her? Hermione rolled to the other side of the bed with a angry "Hmph!"

She would kill him if it meant keeping her secret a secret. If he uttered one word, she would take a knife and butcher him to pieces and chuck all his body parts into the lake or somewhere where no one would ever find him, save the scavenging beasts.

If he really wanted to tell, wouldn't he have already said something? Even if he knew nothing else beside the fact that Hermione was connected to Aurora Riviera, he could have used that ages ago as blackmail or some sort of bargaining device. But he hadn't, had he?

Could that possibly mean that he meant to keep everything about her a secret? But why would he do that? He hated her with a passion and would do everything and anything to ruin her. Her removal from Hogwarts, or better yet, her death, would probably bring him his greatest triumph.

He was probably off laughing about her somewhere. She could just imagine him telling Pansy what a great big baby she, Hermione, was. She could see him announcing to the whole school how many times he'd seen her crying. How afraid of him she was. How she had to run away from him every time he approached because she was so damn scared of him. She saw his ego swelling to the size of an elephant - if it wasn't there already.

Hermione thought of the whole school laughing mercilessly at her as she entered the Great Hall or was walking down a corridor. She thought of all their pointing fingers, mouths open in laughter, whispering behind her back -

_No_, she wouldn't let Malfoy get the better of her. She wasn't ever going to cry again, never. She'd learn to control her emotions, become a good liar. Perhaps she'd even study Occlumency to learn to close up her mind. All in all, she decided she'd never let anyone know her weaknesses, never let anyone have the means to threaten or scare her again. She promised herself that she'd never be intimidated by anyone, no matter how terrible they were.

A new Hermione would walk the halls today. Although she'd still be the perfect, smart, know-it-all that teachers loved with a passion, she would be changed. She'd never again be the vulnerable, scared Hermione again. From now on she wasn't going to care what people said about her or did in her presence. It wouldn't affect her, she told herself. She would learn to control her feelings, emotions, the way she said things, everything. She would be the best actress ever to grace the planet.

A twisted smile formed at Hermione's lips. This was the only way she'd be able to defend herself against Malfoy. She'd have to be just as ruthless, cold-hearted, and unfeeling as him. In fact, she'd be more so. She didn't care what it would take to. If she had to be the coldest, cruelest, most conniving, sly little bitch, she would do it.

She needed information from Malfoy - he was the only one would could provide it for her. And he probably thought he could get the better of her, didn't he? Well, she would show him. She'd use him to get what she wanted and then chuck him right into the trash bin. See how he liked it.

For one moment she was fearful. She couldn't do it. How could she pretend to be like _him?_ How could a person be so evil and wicked to people? She didn't know how to do it. How would she learn?

Well, she was Hermione Granger, wasn't she? She could do anything. Anything that other people could do, she could do better. That's the way it always was. And if she wanted to do this, she could do it.

But, oh, where would she find Malfoy? Or rather, where would he go to find her? Smiling, she gathered up her books and headed out of her dorm. Surprise, surprise, she'd plant herself in the library.

~*~

Draco had prepared himself to be bored, but that was before he began reading through the materials that had been delivered to him. After the first few lines, he was hooked. And as he became more and more absorbed in the documents, he learned more and more about things that he - no one - should ever have known.

In just two hours of reading, he had learned more about Aurora than he probably knew about his parents. There was everything, yet he knew that there was more to be found. It seemed as though the documents he had gave only a small fraction of the secrets surrounding her. He knew that there must be things about her that were never recorded. But it sure seemed like he had everything.

He had already found out too much. If Granger knew that he knew all this, she'd probably bury him alive. As Granger entered his mind, he knew how important this information could be to her. Just knowing the fact that she was actually the child of Aurora Riviera probably caused enough damage to her already. If she knew...

What he found out was mostly facts about Aurora and her life. But there was one thing...one thing that Granger deserved to know.

But Draco couldn't tell her, he _couldn't_. And he didn't think he ever would be able to. It would be too cruel, too heartless, even for Draco Malfoy. He didn't think she'd be able to bear it if she knew. It would completely destroy her.

For more than six years, he'd wished that he could get his hands on information like this. Information that could have the power to totally ruin Hermione Granger. He hadn't known then, though, that he could come across something this important, this life-altering. And he knew that it would definitely change Granger.

He'd half a mind to chuck the document into the fireplace. And then no one would ever know. And Granger would live a relatively happy and painless life. No wonder they say ignorance is bliss.

What the hell did he care about her anyway? The only reason why he didn't want to tell her was because it was too cruel, even by his standards. If it had been something milder, he would have told her in a heartbeat, just to get at her. But this, he couldn't, he just couldn't. 

__

Wimp.

Okay, that one word had made him change his mind. He would tell Granger. He'd tell her everything and then watch her wallow in her misery. He didn't care squat about her. Why should he? And he wasn't going to let himself feel like a complete wimp and chicken for the rest of his life.

Yeah, so it was selfish. But so what? It wasn't like he'd never been selfish in his whole life. In fact, he could probably fill fifty dozen books listing every time he'd ever done something for his own good in his life.

And she'd just been crying, too. She would be so easy to convince, so easy to control. How splendid it would be to see her crying her eyes out in front of the whole library. And it would all be credited toward him. Oh, how his reputation would soar, while she'd be reduced to dirt.

Pulling the Hogwarts robe around him and straightening the Head Boy badge, Draco set out to find her. Where could she possibly be? Oh yes, the library.

~*~

Hermione was sitting alone at a small circular table in a far distant corner of the Hogwarts library. In front of her were a few Herbology books and she was currently writing an essay about the Lythera plant, which grew in abundance in the jungles, and was used for curing Alligator bites.

However, she wasn't actually _reading_. Sure, the book was open right in front of her and her quill scratched at the half-filled parchment in front of her. But most of her energy she spent keeping her ears alert for any sound that might mean that someone was approaching. Not Harry and Ron, of course. They were at Quidditch practice and probably wouldn't be back for hours. No, no, she was waiting for the infamous Draco Malfoy.

After arriving at the library, she'd had doubts about whether or not she could do this. She wanted so badly to turn back and avoid him for the rest of her life, but she knew she couldn't, and wouldn't. She had decided to do this, so do it she must.

There were soft footsteps approaching from behind her, she noticed. And then, a few seconds later, a tall dark shadow loomed over her.

"Fancy seeing you here," came the annoying drawl of Draco Malfoy.

"Fancy seeing you alive," Hermione replied without lifting her eyes, looking as if she was deeply engrossed in writing her essay. _God, I sound like an idiot. I'm a complete moron. Be mean. Be mean. Try._

Draco wouldn't admit it, but he was quite surprised. He had expected a badly shaken up Hermione Granger who'd just learned that her mother was a Death Eater, one of the loyal servants of the Dark Lord. He'd expected her to be crying, sobbing, the works.

"Library's such a nice, solitary place to retreat to, isn't it?" He asked, stepping to the other side of the table and supporting himself with his two arms on the table-top, staring inches from her face. "S'pecially if you're a complete loser who hasn't got any friends and comes here in the guise of doing homework."

She could tell from his tone of voice that he had worked up some big revelation to tell her. And this one wasn't going to be nice or pleasant at all. A few months ago, they had hated each other, and then for a while, they almost were friends. Well, that sure lasted, didn't it? She knew he wanted to tell her something that was so mind-blowing it'd ruin her for sure. Well, wouldn't that be a treat?

"You know, I _was_ going to be nice and civil to you, but your attitude completely horrifies me," she drawled out, inspecting him as if he'd just committed some horrible felony, "I'll have to report you, I suppose. Is twenty points enough, or shall we make it thirty?"

"And what exactly might this be for? I'm not trespassing, am I?" he said, raising his eyebrow in mock.

She glanced at him, her eyes open wide in surprise. "Didn't you see the sign at the door?"

"What sign?" he asked, thoroughly annoyed.

"Oh, you know, the one that says 'No idiots allowed,'" she offered carelessly, with a wave of her hand. "So if you wouldn't mind, kindly sod off."

Draco sneered and sat down across from her. "Don't try to be clever with me, Granger. I know things that - "

"Bragging again, are we?" Hermione calmly interrupted, looking down and examining her fingernails, but with her eyebrows raised. 

"I know things that you would kill for," he said, narrowing his gray eyes.

"Really," Hermione said, feigning surprise, and leaning forward closer to him. "Enlighten me."

He'd got her hooked already, he thought. "Knowledge costs a price."

"And what kind of a price might this be?" Hermione asked, sitting back in her chair, holding her hands so that her fingertips met, and crossing her legs.

"What do you have to offer?"

"I want a sample," she said, completely ignoring him. "I want a sample of what kind of _knowledge_ you have."

"_She_ was prefect for two years." He knew that this was familiar knowledge. 

"Oh, you've got to do better than that," Hermione said, forcing an amused laugh. "Tell me something I _don't_ know."

"She died on the 19th of September, 1981."

"McGonagall's informed me."

"Her best friend was Narcissa Black, my mother," Draco drawled lazily. He knew perfectly well that this was second knowledge for her. But he had been baiting, and now he was done and would slowly reel her in.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me, but I'm quite sure I said something about...uh..." Hermione twirled her fingers in the air, "something I _don't_ know."

"Don't get too excited, Granger. I haven't finished." Draco said, leaning towards her with that smirk on his face. "Care to guess who her _other_ best friend was?"

"I'm assuming you're going to tell m - "

"_Severus Snape_," he declared before she could finish her sentence, flashing a charming smile at her. "Name's familiar to you?"

It came as quite a nasty shock. Her mother friends with Snape? Ugh. No wonder Snape said he had known her. She should have known it right then. Hermione took half a second to regain her composure and then beamed at Draco. "As if _that_ wasn't obvious."

"You _knew_ that?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Damn, he'd just sounded like an idiot.

Hermione laughed again. No, she didn't just _laugh_. She laughed at _him_. And he knew it. "You know what, Malfoy. I like you." And then her expression grew serious and cruel. "You remind me of when I was young and _stupid_."

Draco snorted loudly, and then clenched his teeth. He wouldn't let her get the better of him. "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

"Jealousy? Oh, dear me, I seem to have forgotten why I could _possibly_ be jealous of _you_," Hermione said, plastering a frown on her face and then raised her eyebrows. "Care to remind me?"

"Oh, let me see. Because I'm incredibly smart and talented, not to mention exceptionally wealthy, and on top of that I'm so devilishly handsome, and everyone _loves_ me."

"Oh, gee, well, I'm just _green_ with envy." Hermione rolled her eyes carelessly.

Draco frowned slightly, and looked her over. "Green's not really your color."

Hermione licked her lips and leaned closer to him. "And what, pray tell, would be a more suited color for me?"

"Red," Draco answered quickly and firmly, learning back into his seat.

Hermione followed suit. "Red? And why do you say that?"

Draco looked Hermione over again, as if he was scrutinizing every single part of her body, which made her feel rather self-conscious and then answered, "I imagine you would looking _stunning_ in red lingerie."

"Really," Hermione said faking a delightful laugh, which then turned more sinister. "But _really_, Malfoy, you shouldn't let your mind wander. It's not healthy. It's far too small to be let out on it's own."

"Are you trying to insult me?" Draco said, amused.

"Well," Hermione replied leaning in so close that their faces were almost touching. "I would have liked to, to tell you the truth. But the sad truth is, you wouldn't have understood me."

"Try me."

"I haven't got time to sit around and chat," she said, looking vexed. "_That_ would be your cue to leave."

"What was that again?" He said innocently, as if he hadn't heard a word she said.

"In more polite terms, _fuck off_," Hermione stood up and gathered her books in her arms. "Nevermind, _I'll_ leave. But really, don't stay in the library too long. I'd hate to think that you were stinking up the place."

She turned to leave and was almost out the door before he came to his senses.

"You wanted to know something, Granger?" he taunted loudly, as there weren't any students left in the library at this hour. "All right, then, I'll _tell_ you. Do you know how your mother - "

Hermione picked up her pace and then slammed the library door shut behind her, which promptly turned off Malfoy's voice. Taking a deep breath, she hurried to the Gryffindor common room, determined to not let it bother her. So she was right, he did know something - something important - that she didn't.

She shook her head and tried to free herself of all thought.

_I will not let him intimidate me._

~*~

She reached the portrait of The Fat Lady, who was currently chatting with a friend in her portrait. As she approached, The Fat Lady turned to greet her.

"Well, I certainly haven't seen _you_ in a while. How are - "

"Flying Firebolt."

The portrait swung open, and Hermione heard The Fat Lady muttering something to her friend about how children were just so rude and ill-mannered these days - incapable of even a friendly greeting. She didn't give a damn.

"Oy! Hermione! Over here!" yelled her two best friends Harry and Ron.

She sluggishly worked her way over to them and plopped into an empty armchair. So her meeting with Malfoy hadn't gone so well, but it still was better than bursting into tears like she had done practically every other time he was in her presence.

"You don't look well."

"That would be because I'm _not_ well."

"Sorry to hear that, Hermione," said Ron and then his attention immediately turned back to Harry. A few seconds later, he announced, "I won! I won!"

"Lucky win," Harry said, gathering up the pieces left in their game of wizard's chess.

"Well, I'm off," Ron said, standing up. "I think a long hot bath will do me some good after getting knocked off my broom by a certain someone," and here, he glared at Seamus, "and falling fifty feet into a pile of mud!"

Harry and Hermione both said good-byes to Ron and watched as his retreating figure disappeared behind the portrait.

"I'm sorry about how I acted this afternoon, I was just sort of caught up - "

"It's okay, Harry, really," Hermione said, cutting him off. "I shouldn't have been so...ill-tempered."

"It's just I always lose the people I care about most," he said, with a distant look in his emerald eyes.

"I know," Hermione said, patting his arm with her hand.

He gulped. "And sometimes, I sit around, and I wonder, who's next? _Who's Voldemort going to take away from me this time?_"

Hermione put her arm around him in a comforting gesture.

"Who's next? Lupin? Hagrid? Ron? You? It's _my_ fault. It's all _my_ fault."

"Harry," she said softly, trying to blink away tears. She wouldn't let herself cry anymore. "Harry, don't think about it. _Please_."

"I'm tired! I'm tired of fighting! I'm tired of losing everyone I love."

"Harry, pull yourself together! You're our only hope. If you don't fight, then we're all dead. Do you understand? He'll kill all of us!"

"Hermione, if I lost you..."

"_Don't_ say that, Harry. I'm always going to be here. And I'll be by your side the day you defeat Voldemort, I promise."

"Oh, look, brave Harry Potter is crying," he said, mocking himself, as a few tears slid down his cheeks. "I just don't know how much more I can take."

"Harry, it's okay to cry. It's okay to cry." But Hermione didn't know if she believed her own words.

"I'm just so afraid that when it's the end, I'll be the only one left, I'll have lost everybody," he said, and then he stared straight into Hermione's eyes. "Promise me that you'll never leave me, no matter what."

"I promise," Hermione said, closing her eyes and tightened her embrace. There was nothing in the world that could possibly tear her away from her best friend.

All of a sudden Harry wiped away his tears and returned to his normal state. "I'm seventeen years old and I'm acting like I'm still in diapers."

"We all have our moments," Hermione said.

"You never cry," Harry said, "I've never seen you cry before. Except for when it's _important_, of course..."

_You don't know everything about me_, Hermione thought as a lump formed in her throat. _What would you think of me if you knew?_

"It's late, you should get some sleep, Harry. You have a quidditch game to win tomorrow."

Harry stood up promptly. "You're right."

He turned to leave but then stopped abruptly. "Hermione, could you possibly do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"It's almost the Winter Holidays and I know that the Heads get four weeks off as opposed to the rest of us, who only get two weeks," he said, smiling, "So I supposed that you might be going off somewhere soon and I really need your help before you leave."

"And that would be?"

"You know, the essay Binns assigned us? It's due right after Winter Holidays, and I've already got it written," and here, Hermione beamed, "and I was wondering if maybe possibly you could, uh, proofread it for me?"

"Oh, of course, I'd love to," Hermione said, beaming happily. Finally, Harry, for once, decided not to procrastinate. "Oh, Harry, I'm so happy for you."

"It wasn't that hard. It was all about my father."

Harry just smiled sheepishly and handed her a stack of parchments. "Here it is."

"I'll do it, but you have to promise me one thing."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You must go to bed _this instant_." Hermione said sternly. "We mustn't let Slytherin win tomorrow!"

Harry started to walk off, shaking his head and chucking. Hermione heard him muttering something about "becoming more like McGonagall," and she decided to ignore him.

After Harry's footsteps died and she heard the sound of a door slamming shut, she returned to the armchair and settled down to read Harry's essay.

She counted how many pages of parchment and found to her astonishment that Harry had written over ten pages. She herself would be more than ecstatic if she could just write _two_ pages about Aurora. In fact, she hadn't even started her essay yet.

She snuggled comfortably into the soft armchair and flipped to the first page. With her quill in hand, she began to read, marking mistakes here and there and correcting some sentence structures.

It was quite good, Hermione had to admit. Harry had probably really enjoyed writing it. Harry loved his father. Well, then again, who didn't? James Potter was one of the most beloved wizards in history, and he certainly was well liked by the teachers at Hogwarts even if he was a bit mischievous. 

_Even at the tender age of five, James showed the promise of becoming a great wizard. His talent for magic..._

Harry had told Hermione that his father was a bit of a jerk during his school years at Hogwarts, but apparently he had forgotten that now. Praises about his father were strewn all over the essay. Hermione thought it was so touching that Harry could love his father so much.

_His greatest achievement at Hogwarts was the honor of being appointed Head Boy. However, much of James Potter's positive influence on the wizarding world came in the few short years of his life following his graduation from the prestigious school._

Hermione scribbled some notes here and there to Harry, telling what he could change. She corrected spelling, sentence structure, and grammar. 

_James Potter married right out of Hogwarts to sweetheart Lily Evans, who was the Head Girl of their year. He, along with his wife, rose to become one of the best Aurors in the history of wizardry._

It was actually very fascinating and interesting, Hermione thought as she read the essay. She had never known so much about James Potter. The most she had known was that he was Harry's father, who was a great Auror, but was rather cantankerous during his school years.

_On July 31, 1980, a child was born to the couple and named Harry James Potter..._

Hermione laughed. It was quite funny reading something that Harry had written about himself.

_Harry, being James' only child, was completely doted on by his loving father._

Hermione couldn't help it. It was too amusing.

_However, there was a more serious side to James Potter. As he was a member of the Order of the Pheonix, a group which worked to defeat Voldemort..._

Well, Binns wouldn't like reading that name, Hermione thought. Although she'd also begun to use that name since fifth year, Hermione definitely tried not to use it in other people's presence. After all, most people were terrified of hearing that name, and the only people she used that name with were her friends and the Order of the Phoenix.

_The murders of innocent victims of Voldemort's hatred escalated so dramatically that Ministry officials gave Aurors the permission not only to capture, but also to kill._

Hermione leaned forward in the armchair. The essay was getting incredibly exciting. It wasn't that she'd never known all this before, but for some reason it completely entranced her.

_James Potter is credited with the capture of six Death Eaters..._

Hermione couldn't believe it. Six Death Eaters was an incredible feat. No wonder they said James Potter was such a powerful wizard. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat and prepared to finish the rest of the paragraph.

_James Potter, however, has made claims that he killed one unrecorded Death Eater, whose name he would not confirm, on the night of..._

The pieces of parchment, which previously had been held tightly in Hermione's hands fluttered silently to the floor.

Hermione's mouth was ajar, her eyes remained open in shock, staring into nothing, as the image of the last few words of the sentence carved themselves so mercilessly into her memory.

_...September 19, 1981._

~*~

TBC

~*~

****

A/N: Well, here we are, at the end of another chapter. I wrote the first sentence like a LONG time ago and just couldn't keep writing, and today, Tuesday, June 24th, I sat down and wrote the rest of it and I have finally finished. Well, of course I'll have to wait a while to post it because it does contain OoP spoilers and I want to give you all a very long time to finish reading OoP because I don't want to spoil anything for you. I'm planning on posting this sometime after July 1, when, hopefully, you will be done reading book 5.


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